Ego Vivo
by janit3443
Summary: It was only a truck. Just another semi in need of a new owner and a new paint job. Heh, if only it were that simple. But of course, I was that unlucky bastard who bought the truck, and discovered an entire universe of hell. M for language and just-in-case. PLEASE REDIRECT YOURSELVES TO CHICK VS TRUCK please and thank you!
1. The Red and Blue Peterbilt 11:13

Ego Vivo Chapter One

"How much?" "W-what?" "How much? How much do you want for the truck?" A thumb gestured over the shoulder towards the nightmare that had been parked on his lot for 3 or 4 intermittent months. "Y-you want to b-buy it? Really?" He was getting excited now. This woman was probably gullible, and stupid as shit, as with most drivers who stumbled upon the used-truck lot. "Err yeah… That's kinda why I'm asking. How much do you want?" "Well, ahh, don't you want to test-drive it first? Take a look?" She raised a brow, "Nobody ever taught you how to wheel and deal, did they?" "'Scuse me?" "Nothing!" She replied hurriedly. _Better be nothing! _He thought.

"It's a good looking truck… The paint is ugly, but I mean, I would think a truck like that would be well taken care of. I should guess that you're a reputable dealer, are you not?" She asked with a snicker. "Oh, absolutely! The best in the area-" _The standards must be lower than I thought around here._ "-and some of the best prices for only the best trucks!" He was lying through his teeth and they both knew it. She simply stared at him, unconvinced, and turned back towards the truck. "Right… Well, how 'bout I go get you some keys and we can take a ride in 'er." She ignored the hinted double meaning that was implied by the suggestive tone in his voice.

_ Men._ She huffed mentally. _Hnh. It _is_ a good looking truck… Why hasn't somebody jumped on it?_ That part was the dealer's little secret, though it was quite an elephant in the room, amongst the 6 or 7 guys who'd purchased it previous to now. They came along, bought it, and within a week, two at most, returned, frantically demanding a refund of their money. It was possessed, many claimed. It had jerked the wheel out of their hands, driven itself where it pleased, disappeared from truck stops on numerous counts, leaving their loads in parking lots that were miles from their intended destination, etc. Quite plainly, it was a problem child. The dealer, Rick, was ready to take the truck to a crusher and rid himself of what was, without a doubt, the most problematic vehicle he'd ever purchased at a public auction.

"Here are your keys." He stated, holding out a ring with two keys, and a small emblem, with a weird, box-face logo on one side, and the classic Peterbilt on the other. She took them promptly, and moved towards the truck.

~X~X~

Something about this truck was intriguing… Maybe it was just the paintjob, (or rather, what was left of it) or the general rarity of this style of the model, or the fact that it was different from the rest in the gravel parking lot. I couldn't stop coming back to it. I'd circled the lot at least twice, looking at all the trucks, but I always came back to this one. It was so eerie, the way it looked. The paint was dulled, and chipping and flaking in many spots, and the overcast weather, and looming rain clouds overhead made it that much more dull seeming. But it was like I could imagine it's glory days, glowing flames licking off the hood and across the body, hauling ass from place to place, like a deep blue Smokey and the Bandit rig, minus the famous country singer and his lazy pup behind the wheel. All I knew now, was that I wanted to get in the truck and drive like Bandit himself. But I didn't. I wasn't about to get in with this creep, Rick, the owner of the so-called dealership.

In reality, the place was a bone yard, a final resting place for a bunch of rigs that would likely never leave the lot, except it they were destined for a crusher or a blowtorch. I twirled the keys on my finger, as I approached the truck, slowly, as though I was approaching a skittish horse. I flicked a glance back at Rick, then hesitantly unlocked the truck. It wouldn't be the first time I found something seriously friggin' weird in a truck. The topper on my list, so far, was dead animals - squirrels, raccoons, a skunk, a few rabbits, all of them hanging inside the truck. But what about this truck? The door handle popped and I opened the door, taking a large step back, just in case.

Amazingly, it was normal. Clean, in fact, despite the look of disrepair on the outside. Leather seats that matched the paint, a dark wood on the dash and immaculate chrome detailing. I hauled myself up into the driver's seat, and immediately sighed. Soft seat was damned soft. I could've fallen asleep on the spot if it weren't for the creep. "Does she start?" "Huh?" Was this guy deaf, or what? "The truck. Does. It. Start?" "Oh! Err, yeah, I think so…" I rested one hand on the steering wheel, and threw the key in the ignition. "Well… Here goes nothing, I guess." One foot in the clutch, the other hovering above the gas. First try, barely a choking cough. The second, same. The third, with a few revs of the gas, and I was met with the thunderous growl that I'd become so familiar with, with these trucks. I grinned wide, and patted the wheel and gave the dash a good look. All the gauges leapt to life, lit up, and the needles rose to their appropriate places. I smirked. I flicked over to the radio. No power. Huh… I tapped the tiny screen, played with the volume dial with no luck, squinting at it, in search of a power button. "The radio don't work." "What?" I mentally face palmed. Was this guy paying any attention? "The radio doesn't work. There's no power button, and it ain't lit up." "Oh… Huh…" I snorted. "Well, ahh, wanna take 'er for a drive?" I grimaced slightly. The brakes were probably worn, and it probably had little or no fuel. I just wanted to take the friggin' thing home already! "Nahh… I wanna talk numbers." "Well then… How 'bout we head on in, and talk it over? Get out of the cold?" "Sure." I mumble, killing the engine and climbing out, handing the keys back.

~X~X~

The trailer that served as the office was small, tight, and very cramped. Dropped ceilings, few windows, and numerous filing cabinets made the small space claustrophobically tight. There was a desk immediately in front of the door, and cheap plastic chairs against the same wall as the door. There was an older woman seated behind the desk, who looked up from a book, to stare at me, her expression screaming boredom, like she would've been thrilled to watch paint dry or grass grow. I nodded silently to her, and followed Rick around her desk, into what seemed to be his office, though it was tight enough to call a walk-in closet, instead of an actual room. He rounded a metal desk, that reminded me of my school years. _A teacher's desk. _That's_ original… Not._ He gestured to a chair across from the desk, as he sat in one behind it. "Coffee?" He offered. Maybe he wasn't quite as much of a sleaze ball as I thought… I shrugged, "Ehh, sure." "It's out there." He stated, thumbing back out towards the rest of the office. "Oh." Jerk. I left for a brief moment to retrieve the life-fluid and returned quickly with a small cup in hand.

"So what are _you_ thinking? What price range?" I started for him. "Well… Ahh… Hmm…" He mumbled to himself, tapping his fingers against his chin. After a few minutes of hmm's and huh's and buhmaybe's, he replied, "Twenty-four-hundred." Just as I was taking a sip. I nearly choked on it. "T-twenty-four-_hundred?_" I exclaimed. Are you forgetting a zero in there or something? Twenty-four-hundred. As in, a two, a four, and _two_ zeroes?" "Yeah… Why? You willing to pay more?" He said. Too late now, dumb-ass. "No! No, I was just… Making sure…" I sipped my coffee, in an effort to wave off the sudden outburst. "Two-thousand dollars…" I murmured under my breath again. "You take cash?" He perked up immediately. "Yeah! Err- yes. We do. But there's a no-returns policy. No returns, no refunds, no complaints." "I'm down with that." I responded, smiling. We both stood up, shook hands, and he pointed towards the woman at the desk. "Go talk to Lynn, and she'll pull up the title and the reg. and we'll get you on your way!" I nodded, and moved back to the front of the tiny office. The woman, Lynn, looked up from her book. "Hi." I said shortly, flashing a smile, and half-waving. "What can I do for ya?" "$2400! Ima pull the title and registration!" came the shout from Rick, who then exited his office. He opened one drawer on a filing cabinet, pulled out the corresponding sheets of paper, and placed them on the edge of the secretary's already cluttered desk. The phone rang, and said woman promptly picked it up, with a sharp. "HELL-O!" and followed with soft mhmm's and uh-huh's. Must run in the family, I thought to myself. Rick pulled open another drawer on a different cabinet, pulling out other papers. Lynn snapped at whoever was on the other end of the phone. Rick slammed the drawer shut. A pile of papers on the edge of Lynn's desk tipped and scattered, prompting a fight -more of a chicken squabble- between them. I awkwardly rubbed the back of my head, and stepped back, parking myself in one of the plastic chairs. It finally ended with a sharp snap from Rick, and Lynn ended up crouched down in her heels, picking up the papers. I grimaced. Rick snapped my attention back to him, waving the title in my face. I smiled, and stood back up, taking the title, and reading it. God help me that this jerk doesn't rob me blind with a counterfeit title or registration. I nodded, with a shrug, and pulled out my wallet. I had just purchased myself a new -new to me, at least- truck.

~X~X~

When Rick disappeared back into his office, to sign his half, Lynn rolled her eyes, and pulled open one of the file cabinet drawers behind her. She grasped the glasses hanging around her neck and pushed them up, onto the tip of her nose."So what'd ya buy?" She inquired. "The red and blue Petey." I responded with a real, glowing smile.

She suddenly looked back at me, intensely, as if I'd grown two extra heads, doubled limb count, and fish scales. "What?" I ask, startled. "Oh, nothing. Nothing…" She said aloud, with a glance over her shoulder, then she dropped her voice to a murmur.

"He's been trying to get that thing off the lot for forever. Like, three or four months!"

Shit.

"A bunch of people bought it, and came back within two weeks, complaining, demanding a refund!"

Oh God…

"A couple of them said the truck drove off and left them behind. Left their cargo miles away from where the driver was stranded, and came back on it's own!"

Damnit.

"Supposedly it started talking to them! It also _changed into a monster!_ But I think they're just on crack."

Changed into a monster?

"_And_, it kept taking over, and driving to random places! _With it's driver inside!_"

Fuck me.

* * *

><p>AN: So... This is my first fic that I've actually posted. I know damned well it could be better, but I also know damned well that it's a good start. Relatively good grammar, and automatic spellcheck on my comp, to boot. So I'm confident, but not cocky about it. :3 R and R please! :)


	2. Freaking Truck! 11:21

Ego Vivo Chapter Two

The drive home was weird. Awkward, because I kept expecting something really bad to happen. But surprisingly calm. No haunted truck. No Maximum Overdrive. No dumping me out and driving off. Nothing. Nothing except the fuel gauge, that dinged at me when it came on, and scared the shit outta me. I glared at the small dial, wishing it to hover away from that foreboding E that spelled doom for so many, at the worst of times, and kept driving.

I got on the highway. Home wasn't far from that bone yard of a truck-lot, but I was gonna drop this beast off at my dad's shop. In the morning, I'd take a thorough look through the paperwork sitting in the passenger seat, detailing the background on the VIN and plate, and even pictures -well, _one_ picture- of this truck, back before it had all hell beaten into it. Thinking of the picture, I began a mental calendar. Today was Sunday. If my dad could fix any mechanical problems by Tuesday, I could get it headed towards being repainted by Wednesday, and hopefully out by next Sunday at the latest. By then, any and all paperwork could be checked out, transferred, registered, etc, and I could get on the road with 'er. If all went to plan, I could probably make the purchase price back by or before two weeks from now. Parts and paint would be easily five grand, minimum. I could make that money in another two weeks, so by one month from now, I would hopefully be into the pure profit. From then on, at a continuous rate of at least one run every week, $500 per run, I'd make two thousand a month, twenty-four-grand a year, and all of it would go into the shop.

Suddenly, the engine gave a sharp cough, and began spluttering along, the solid 70 mph I was going drooping suddenly to 55, then steadily to 50, and then 45. I panicked slightly and flipped on a blinker, pulling over. Within about two minutes, the truck slowed to a halt and the engine quit. "Damnit!" I snapped, beating the steering wheel with my palm. I quickly climbed out, and got on the phone.

~X~X~

He was quite satisfied with his results. He'd practically forced her into submission, and showed her just a preview of just how much of a pain in the ass he would be. Of course, she didn't know it was him doing it. Probably never would, if he could help it. She'd be, without a doubt, returning him to that Primus-forsaken lot before so much as two weeks was out. Of course, he wasn't aware of the deal she'd made with Rick, either. He returned his attention to her conversation going on over the phone.

~X~X~

"-Yeah. Yep. Thanks dad. Yeah. Love you too. Bye." I sighed and turned back to the truck. "You sure are causing me some mighty trouble already, ya know." I muttered. I looked back down at my hand, where I'd written my next call, and dialed it into my phone. "_Interstate Towing. Nate speaking._" "Hey Nate. It's Diane." "_Oh, hey Di! How are ya?_" "Eh… I've been better. Any chance you're still in your rig?" "_Err, yeah, why? You need a tow?_" "Erhm, yeah, I do." I replied, shyly. "I got this new truck. A '94 Pete. The thing's a real beater. I got on the highway and she died on me." "_Yeah, hey, I'll be right out! Where are ya?_" "Ahh…" I backed up next to the guardrail, searching for a mile marker. "I'm a little after 84-point-4. It's a little ways after the exit overpass." "_Okay. Cool. I'll see ya in a bit._" "Thanks. Talk to ya soon." "_Yup._" "Bye." I snapped my phone shut, and smirked at the truck. "How do ya like me now, truck?" I stuck my tongue out at it. I leaned up against the grill, and watched the last of the setting sun disappear between the Appalachian mountain range and the angry, dark storm clouds that were preparing to piss all over the entire New England region.

Ten minutes later, it started raining. Nothing major, just a light mist that was faint, but cool. I got ready to get back in the truck while I waited. A minute or two later, the mist became real drops. I went to get in. And was denied. The door was locked. I know I hadn't locked the truck. Meanwhile, the keys were in it. So now I was locked out, my keys were locked in, and it was starting to rain. I yanked on the latch real good, to no avail. Yanking harder, the latch suddenly released, sending me on my ass, into the mostly empty highway. The small chrome handle quickly snapped back, and I heard the lock click back into place. Quickly pushing myself off the ground, I gawked at the truck. "You bastard freaking truck!" I shouted at it. Trying at the door again, still with no luck. The rain drops were getting fatter, and falling more rapidly, and I resorted to simply cursing at the truck, and sat in front of it.

~X~X~

I was soaked, by the time Nate pulled up. I was sitting on the cab steps, trying to hide under the mirror, which was virtually impossible, considering how thin it was. I was sopping wet, cold, and annoyed. I was quick to get up and meet Nate most of the way to his truck. "Hey Di, how- What the hell happened?" He was startled by my thoroughly rained-upon self. I had my arms folded and hands tucked under, trying to keep most of my heat in. "I, ahh… I got locked out…" I muttered. He nodded hesitantly. "The keys are in it?" "Yeah. Keys are in it, but the door locked itself." He let out a soft laugh, and smiled at me. "Alright. Come on, kid. Go ahead and get in. I got the heat turned up already." He softly patted my back and nudged me towards the truck, his fluorescent jacket and the reflective vertical stripes glowing in the little bit of light being put off by all of the amber marker lights running the length of his truck. I smiled, nodded, and immediately climbed into the passenger seat of his truck, melting into the warm interior.

A few minutes later, the tow-operator returned and climbed in. "Yeah, she's definitely locked up good. I'm gonna hook 'er up." He grumbled, tossing a pack of lock picks into the door pocket. I nodded. "Where you bringin' 'er?" "Dad's. I was hoping I'd be able to get it home, on what fuel was in it. That thing had an eighth of a tank when I left, so I guess I'll be replacing some fuel lines." I mumbled. "So how much was it?" "Twenty four." "Thousand?" "Nah. Hundred." "What? Twenty-four-hundred? Was the guy on crack!" I laughed at his response. "Pot. Crack. Meth. Heroin. Take your pick! I'm sure he was doing all of them!" I say, with a snort. "Surprise. Around here, I'm definitely not surprised…" I nodded, with a smirk, as Nate started backing up, and got ready to return to the torrential downpour outside the Kenworth's cab.

~X~X~

I waved from the open bay door as Nate drove off, leaving me and the truck alone at the shop. After the neon yellow truck had disappeared into the walls of rain, I shut the door of the bay and turned to the truck. "So…" I started, to the truck. "Now what? You gonna run me over and make me a permanent smear on the door? Or leave _me_ behind like your other drivers?" I shook my head, and tried to open the door. Unlocked. I stared at the truck, as the door swung open at my pull, appalled. I _know_ that door was locked when Nate came to pick me up. He even said it himself that it was! I buried my face in my hands for a moment, before looking back up into the cab. It was the same as I'd left it. Pulling myself up, I saw it was _exactly_ the same as I'd left it, except for the keys that were now in the ignition. I know I had pulled them out. I'd pulled them out and set them on the floor of the cab. I sighed, and grabbed the paperwork off the passenger seat. "No refunds, returns or complaints… Big mistake, girly…" I murmured to myself, shutting the garage door, and heading for the office.

~X~X~

"So what'd ya get, kid?" Came my dad's voice, as he marched into the office of the shop. I shot up, from an uncomfortable but fairly deep sleep in my chair. I groaned softly, and thunked my head to the desk. "You okay?" I groaned again, in response, before sitting back up, and looking at him. "It died on the way here, and then I got locked out. Nate had to tow it over here." "So what is it?" "You didn't look yet?" "Yeah, I did! I figured I'd ask anyways!" He replied sarcastically, laughing softly. "No, I didn't." I nodded groggily, and pulled the picture that had come in the folder with the truck. He whistled, "Wow… What a beaut! That's one nice looking truck…" I nodded, pushing out of the chair. "Yeah, was. Now it's a beater. I figure, if we can fix it up, I could probably get it off to Mikey in a few days, and be on the road by the end of the week." I gestured towards the door, and we both moved out to the garage.

"Oh!…" My dad was startled by the condition of the truck now, compared to the photo. The picture showed gleaming, immaculate red-to-orange flames screaming across deep sapphire blue on the cab, and the colors inverted on the hood. I sighed softly. "This thing is gonna take a while… Mikey's really gonna have his work cut out for him." My dad nodded, and walked away, to pin the photo on the board next to the office window. "When Shaina gets in later, I'll have her look for more pictures. That'll make Mikey's job at least _a little _bit easier." My dad offered. I shrugged and looked at the truck. It had seemed like a good idea, at first, but now, I was looking at the truck, and seeing problems everywhere, even ones that probably weren't actually there. Running a hand, through my hair, I set off.

~X~X~

Three exhausting days later, the truck was done. Or at least, mechanical work was done. The truck itself looked like crap, but it ran beautifully, seamlessly. I looked above the opposite wall and glared at the black and white analog clock, bold black letters showing 8:43pm. I sighed and carefully pushed the hood of the Peterbilt back down, clipping it shut.

"You still out here, Di?" "Huh?" I looked up, spotting my friend and mechanic, Aiden. "Oh, yeah, I'm still here… It's done. It's finally friggin' done!" I laughed softly, leaning into the grill of the truck. "Well that's good… I just talked to your dad. He's got a run for you." "A run? But it's not ready to go! It starts, and the basic maintenance checks out , but I haven't even gone for a test drive! And above all else, I still need fuel. I only put in enough to start 'er up." I thumped my head back into the grill, sighing. "I do kinda need to make all that money for part back, though." I muttered. I sighed again, rubbed my face with a greasy gray-black hand, and leaned away from the grill. Aiden smiled pitifully, patted me on the back, then turned away, and returned to the office. Shaking my head, I grabbed the multiple empty soda cans on the step of the truck, and followed.

~X~X~

My dad was sitting in the office, clicking away at the computer. _Ebay._ I thought to myself. Tossing the armful of empty Mountain Dew's and Dr. Pepper's in a blue recycle bin, I dropped into a chair on the opposite side of Dad's desk. "You win anything?" I murmured. He simply grunted a response, typed something in, and clicked murderously. I snickered softly, and answered aloud, to myself, "Trying to." He nodded. Typing and clicking again, he looked up. "Just bought a whole lot of oil filter wrenches." He stated proudly. I smiled, and nodded. "Nice. Because we _totally_ don't have a million of them already?" He shrugged and responded with a simple _Mehh_. I rolled my eyes, leaned over the arm of chair, and grabbed a new can of soda out of the half-size fridge at my side. "So where am I going and why am I leaving already?" I asked, cracking the can open, and taking a long sip. "You said the truck would be ready in a few days. It's been a few days." He stated firmly. I folded my arms. "Fort Worth, Texas." My eyes widened, and I nearly choked on my soda. _Twice in under a week. Must be a new record for me._ "Texas? Dad, that's _at least_ a thousand miles! I don't know if this truck can even go _fifty_ miles without breaking down or getting blowing itself to smithereens!" I exclaimed. "A quarter less than two-grand." He corrected, carelessly. "It's around seventeen-hundred, as long as you take this route-" he handed me a number of sheets over the desk, "-and probably about two days. Give or take." My jaw dropped as I looked over the instructions. "You expect me to drive from middle-of-nowhere Massachusetts to Fort Worth, Texas, and back-" He nodded, "-in two freaking days?" He threw his hands up and shook his head. "Nuh-nuh-nuh-nuh-no. Those instructions are one way, you dipshit." He facepalmed and shook his head.

"Oh." I laughed softly to and at myself. "Well… Erhm, one problem. I haven't taken a test drive, and it still needs fuel. Specifically, two entire tanks worth. I pulled both of them, cuz they were a bit ugly-lookin'." I shrugged, standing up, and taking a sip of my soda, looking over the first page of instructions. "Well then grab a small tank, run to the station, grab enough to start 'er up, and get going!" My dad ordered, in sergeant-ly manner. I nodded, and put my self in gear, setting a manual autopilot.

~X~X~

I watched the numbers rolling by. $100. $200. $300. $600. $700. When the meter ran to 246 gallons -or rather, 46, after the third re-scan of my card, because the meter only ran a hundred gallons at a time- I shook my head and let go of the trigger. The tanks on this truck were a hundred gallons each. It should've only taken _two_ hundred. _At most!_ Leaning against the truck, I glared down the length of the cab, wishing it weren't such a nightmare already.

Dorothy, the station's owner, rounded the front of the truck. She was an ancient-looking woman. She moved slowly, due to many health problems. She'd run the station for many years, as in, before I was even born. Sure, I was only 22, but she'd still been working here a _looooong_ time… I shook off the glare, smiled, and waved. "How ya doing, dear?" She asked, her strong voice defying her physical appearance. "I'm good, Thee. How are you?" She rolled her eyes and waved it off, with a simple "Ahh, same as always. Grandkids are getting old. Kids are getting even older." She shrugged. I smiled and laughed.

"So where did ya get this beater?" She said, staring firmly at the truck, taking a step back, and putting hands on her hips. It was like the truck was a friend of the male species, and she was determining it's worth, and whether or not it was worthy of my time. "I got it from Rick. Y'know, the dirtbag up at Exit 4?-" I shook my head, "-Just as much of a scumbag as always. Twenty-four-hundred for this thing. Can ya believe that? But almost that much in parts and-" pointing to the meter, "-I just nudged my budget over five-grand." She nodded, and looked back at me, staring me in the eyes. "It's not a bad truck… But you better paint it! It's damned ugly!" We both laughed. Dorothy, or Thee, as everybody knew her, was known especially well for her brutal honesty. She reached out and flaked some paint off the door on the sleeper cab.

Without warning, the truck exploded to life, and let out a loud, long blaring of the air horn, making us both jump back a few steps. I stared, startled, at the truck. "Th-there's ahhh- there's still a few uhm- ahh- kinks that need to be worked out." I stumbled over words, trying to explain. "I'll say!" Dorothy snapped in response. I simply nodded, "I uhh- I gotta… Go?" I mumbled. She nodded and waved me towards the cab, walking away. As she passed the grill, the truck honked at her, making her jump again, and move a good deal faster, despite her bad joints. I let my head fall, sighed, and climbed into the truck, feeling awkward, banished almost. Embarrassed.

Tugging my phone out of my pocket, I called my dad, tucking the phone between my shoulder and ear, to shift gears. He picked up almost immediately. "_Y'allo?_" "Hey, it's me. We have a slight wiring problem." "_Wiring problem? But we tested all of the wiring, and replaced nearly all of the fuses!_" "Well, obviously not the right ones. I was over at Thee's and the thing started up on it's own!" "_What? But that's not even possible!_" "Well obviously it is now!" I snapped back. "_Ahh shit. Well, we'll fix it when you get back from that run._" "But-!" "_No! You _need_ to go on that run. No arguing! No fighting. It's waiting for you at the UPS hub in West Springfield. Now get going!_" I growled out a sharp 'Fine!' and hung up, pouting.

~X~X~

_Damn that old woman!_ He thought. That paint fragging hurt. There were only two ways to compare it to the human anatomy. Peeling a layer of skin off, and pulling off an extremely sticky band-aid on the hairiest part of your arm. It slagging hurt! Still hurt, too! And his slagging driver! She only barely filled his tanks! Their "capacity" may have been a hundred gallons per, but their real capacity was around eight-hundred, _total_. He was silently grumbling to himself. Maybe he should just dump this driver in some obscure place, too, like he'd done to the second human who was so unfortunate to buy him. All these creator-slagging humans wanted out of him was to haul as much cargo from place to place, and they didn't care what it was, how much it weighed and if it exceeded his alt. mode's tow capacity, nor how much damage it caused him or other people, with their rude, careless driving style, and non-existent skills.

The Prime was severely displeased. To say the least, displeased. He saved their planet, multiple times, in ways they couldn't possibly imagine, and _this_ was what he got? Sector Seven be slagged. NEST be slagged. U.S. Government Extraterrestrial Plans be slagged. Earth and the entire human race be slagged! He huffed, air tanks sighing, and chugged on, following his driver's lead. Why him?

* * *

><p>AN: Okay, chapter 2. It probably sucked. Minimal Prime action, but I'm getting there! Next chapter? Maybe? We'll see... :P

P.S. My current update plan is every Monday, but no promises... It's a Monday! Whataya want? Quality?


	3. eHana 11:29

Ego Vivo Chapter 3

Pushing into another gear, I sighed again, and played with the dials on the radio for the millionth time. Nothing came out, probably never would The stupid thing would have to come out, and I'd have to find another one that was compatible. I glared at the useless little piece of plastic and circuit board, then glanced up to a car in my mirrors. The little hell-spawned creation, a Hyundai or Toyota or the like, wove back and forth across the two lanes on this side of the highway. No blinkers, high speeds, and idiotic Fast and Furious driving. I mentally face palmed, and dropped a gear as I pulled a little too close to the old woman in the white Taurus in front of me. I didn't plan on recreating the "Compact Compact" myth in a real world situation.

Glancing in my mirror again, I nearly leapt out of my seat when I saw the fast, furious fucktard swerve back and forth on either side of the 53-foot mammoth of a box pinned to my back. There was another car following steadily at the corner of my trailer, whom I had been cursing aloud, for some time. It was following just tight enough that the speedster would have to claw his way between me and them to get by.

And they did just that. I nearly slammed on the brakes when the hothead suddenly smashed into the other car, plowing them out of the way and ripping open their own car against the trailer. They burst into speed, and slammed into the trailer again, in an attempt to recover, and grinding the living crap out of the passenger flank as they were nearly sucked into the axles. I gawked and immediately dropped through multiple gears, startled, starstruck, digging for a pen once my hand was free. I had a good head on my shoulders to guess that this bastard would try to take off, and leave me with the blame, the damage, and the insurance payments from here to Hell.

I jumped out of my skin again, at the sharp _kwabam!_ I jerked, looking at the jacked up car as it sped up beside me, and in the mirror, saw the smoke pouring out. One of the trailer tires had popped, and was dragging, now just a road gator waiting to be released. I shouted at the mirror, and looked back to the car. It looked as though somebody had dragged it on it's side for a few miles at high speeds. The rear bumper was barely hanging on, and the fuel tank- I smirked. This asshole wouldn't get far. The fuel tank had a monstrous gash in it, and was pissing out fuel like an opened 2-liter bottle turned over. Clicking the pen I had dug up, I quickly wrote down the plate number, watching it lay into the soon-to-be-empty gas, and speed off.

Checking mirrors again, and flicking on a blinker, I pulled over. The car that had been shoved out of the way was limping along behind me, following like a friendly shadow, a curious but injured animal. I shook my head, as the truck pulled to a stop. "What a way to start a trip, eh?" I murmured to the dashboard, as if expecting an answer. I flashed a half-smile at the silence and climbed out of the truck.

Walking around to the opposite side, away from the traffic and pulling out my phone to dial for police, I jogged back to the car. It was a small, dark red car, a Ford Crown Vic. A man climbed out after a few moments. As his face appeared over the roof, I realized, he was pissed. He slammed the door as he got out, and huffed loudly. "Don't worry about calling the cops. I already called for back-up." He shouted over the traffic, as a clump of cars suddenly rushed by. _Wait. Back-up? _

"Undercover car?" I shouted back, lowering my voice at the end, as we stepped away from the road. "Yeah. Officer Bryant." He stated, flipping out his badge in his left hand, and holding out his empty right one. I took and shook it firmly, replying with my own name and nodding.

"Well, that was fun." I stated with a snort. "Yeah, _fun_. I didn't think that little bastard was actually gonna go for it." He grumbled. I shrugged, and showed him the back of my hand. "He's not gonna get far. I've got his plate, you've got back-up coming, and his car was pissing out fuel all over the place. Besides, how hard is it to find an electric yellow and candy-green Impala? And I mean, how many 80's Impalas are _actually_ still out there?" I said with a snicker. He smirked in response, "True… Still a pain in my ass. I just got that freaking thing!" He said, gesturing to the undercover car. I laughed softly, "No kidding! I'm on my first run with this truck. I'm on day two.-" I sighed, rubbing my head, "Needs a radio…"

Officer Bryant let out a sudden laugh. "It has no radio?" I shook my head. "Nah. It's got a radio, but it's dead as dead gets." He laughed more, and beat a hand against my shoulder. "Oh God, that's gotta suck! Ahaha, I would _die_ if my car didn't have a radio!" I laughed along, though it rather annoyed me the way he laughed at my misery. I practically lived out of my CD case. But with a non-functioning stereo system, how could I listen to _anything_? I couldn't. I sighed and ran a hand through my hair, and looked up the highway, wishing the back-up cruisers would hurry up.

~X~X~

It was a half an hour before a handful of Dodge Chargers and Ford Crown Vic's flew by in a flurry of lights and sirens. Just one car pulled over, lights still flashing in the afternoon heat. I looked at the time on my phone. 11:19 AM EST. I shook my head, and grumbled not-so-niceties under my breath, glaring as the two officers stood between their two cruisers, gossiping about the accident. The undercover was blowing everything out of proportion and making it out as if he were the hero. There was no hero here. Just a bunch of egos the size of planets.

"They never shut up. I swear, they're inseparable at the station." I leapt out of my skin at the voice. Looking to the voice, I met a female face. A female officer, at that. "Lanning." She said, offering her left hand, her right arm occupied by a clipboard and a sling. I nodded, shaking her hand and offering my own name again. She nodded in response, and wrote some notes on the papers on the clipboard. "Mind telling me what happened? Triple A truck won't be here for another fifteen or so minutes." I sighed again, and nodded, rubbing the back of my head. It was gonna be a long afternoon. I could see that much already.

~X~X~

Nearly an hour later, the Triple A truck showed up with a few spare tires, all mismatched treads and sizes and wheel styles. The two cruisers had left when their tow truck showed up to take away the undercover car. I'd told them I'd be fine waiting by myself, figuring it would only be a few minutes' wait. After arguing about which size the tires on the trailer were for nearly twenty minutes, and then spending another twenty minutes watching the road-side mechanic work as un-educated-ly as possible -if I didn't know any better, I'd swear he'd never had to change a fricking tire before now- I was back on the road.

However, the entire time since I'd gotten going again, the truck had been misbehaving. The gauges leapt up, then dropped then rose again, and scatter, going in all directions and fritzing and it was starting to piss me off. If this was how the trip was going to go, I wasn't gonna make it off the East Coast. I tightened my grip on the wheel, pushing on, and hoping to hell and high water that I'd at least make it to Fort Worth to drop the trailer. At least then I wouldn't have to worry about the multiple thousands of dollars in freight on my back.

~X~X~

I had pulled into a truck stop. I had to. Despite the 3:00 AM EST blaring across my phone screen, I wasn't tired. I wasn't hungry. And I didn't need to use the restroom. What I needed was coffee. What I wanted, however, was to abandon the truck here and now. I knew damned well I couldn't, but I sure as hell wanted to. Since the gauges started shorting, the truck had stalled around twelve times total, and twice, died in the middle of the fast lane, and thrown itself over both lanes of traffic and into the breakdown, despite my greatest efforts to pull the wheel in the opposite direction and feed more fuel into it and put on speed.

Now, I just about ran away from the truck to get a coffee. Coffee meant I needed to think, whereas Mountain Dew just kept me going. Mountain Dew was the Energizer Bunny to my auto-pilot. Coffee was the RAM to my processor. Right now, I needed to think long and hard. Black coffee. Blacker than black. Stronger than a mountain. I thanked every deity I could think of for self-serve at small stations like this. Middle-of-nowhere truck stops that didn't get much business were, that I'd found, very good for that.

Grabbing my coffee and paying for it, I swiftly returned to the truck. Or rather, an empty space. My shoulders dropped. I nearly threw my coffee across the parking lot with aggravation. I spun around, looking in all directions.

And this time, did throw it. The truck had backed itself and the trailer it was attached to into the shadows on the edge of the parking lot. I know I didn't park it there! I was 100% positive that I didn't! I had parked it in the middle of the expanse, directly beneath a light post.

I marched over to it, glaring at every detail, every chipping flake and clump of dried dirt caked onto the mud flaps and everywhere else from about waist-height down. I stood in front of the grill, hands on my hips, glaring at the box-face at the top. The face stared back, blank as a sheet of paper. The air tanks suddenly hissed, making me leap back out of my skin. "Cheater!" I shouted, pointing dramatically at the face.

The truck sat, unresponsive. Grumbling to myself and shaking my head, I dug my phone out of my pocket. "Might as well call Dad." I grumbled. Waiting on the seemingly infinite ringing, the call went to voicemail. "_Hello. You've reached Lavelle Truck Services. We're not available right now, but leave a message with your name and number and we'll be sure to get back to you._" I sighed, and when the beep signaled my being recorded, I spoke, as if the phone had actually been answered.

"Hey Dad, just calling to let you know I'm about two-thirds of the way to Fort Worth. When I get back, you're gonna have a lot to look into. Parking and emergency brake dashboard wiring, transmission, and your favorite! Steering box. Shall I go on? Well, I'll be home soon. Love ya. Bye." I hung up, and sighed again. Since purchasing this truck, I was doing a lot of sighing. It was actually kind of aggravating. This truck was a pain in my ass, and I'd barely had it a week. Breakdowns would be the death of me with this truck, if they kept at the rate they were going. And if the truck decided it was parking itself elsewhere than where I'd left it again- Well… I'd figure that out when and if I got there.

I shook my head and climbed into the truck. Off to hell, again.

~X~X~

His driver stood in front of him, staring at his Autobot symbol. He sighed, causing her to jump back. He wished so badly that he could laugh, but it would not only blow his current 'normal truck' façade -that he was holding, but only barely- but it would also hurt like Pit. Then again, what didn't hurt? All this driving at high speeds was ripping his paint off in great big flakes that hurt like a glitch.

Hah! She wanted to drive fast, all over the country. He wanted to sit deathly still, in a garage, and collect dust. What total opposites they were already. She called somebody, talked a few moments, and hung up, before climbing into his cab. What if he were to shut down for a while? Just sleep, and let her drive him as a normal truck, just for a little while. He would relax, and maybe not feel each little paint flake off his frame, and take a nap, and when he woke up, he'd take over her driving. Though she didn't know it, ever since the trailer had been swiped, jerking him out of a nice, long recharge, he had been driving.

She may have been "driving", but he had all of the control. That's how it was, and that's how it would stay.

Pulling back onto the highway, he immediately perked up. His scanners were blipping faintly of an Autobot, speeding along the same road he was on, at a much higher speed. The Prime smirked internally. He would rumble along, practically idling down the highway. Not only would it allow the Autobot, which he now identified as the fluorescent yellow Hummer he knew as his medic, to catch up, but it would also piss off his driver a good bit. He may have been an Autobot, and he may have believed in freedom for the human race, but he was not in the mood to play entirely nice. To put it, he was in an Ironhide-esque mood.

It's not like he could be blamed. He'd spent the last few years fighting Decepticons, and being driven hard. His team was scattered about the planet. Ironhide was somewhere in Africa… Or was it Australia now? Jazz was back and forth across the European-Asian landmass, from the Pacific Coast to the Atlantic and back again. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker had dug themselves in, and turned a cold shoulder to the Prime about their exact location. The last he had spoken to them, they had crash-landed at the farthest southern point on the planet, the Antarctic pole, taken a ship to New Zealand, and from there, headed to Indonesia, then told him to "Go frag himself and fall into an active volcano." He'd been insulted many times by either and/or both twins, but never in such a harsh manner that meant they might not come back.

Then, of course, after numerous meetings with the human governments, especially that of the United States, he'd been told that the humans would_ not_ provide shelter, resources, or any means of departure from the planet. That one line had hit him the hardest, above all else. For the sake of Primus, they'd saved the useless little mud ball! He'd been told, in specific detailing, that Sector Seven was abolished, NEST was disbanded, and all the human recruits were sent home _without_ being paid, _without_ their families in the safety of a base, without _any_ kind of help from the government.

The part that made the Prime livid, was that the Cybertronians had been guaranteed that there were specific plans being laid out for them. A group called eHana, which ironically took the cover as an online records-keeping group for Health and Human Services.

Ehana, the Prime had been told, stood for Extraterrestrial Habitation Aid National Association. It was essentially going to dig up places where the Autobots could hide, living with either NEST and ex-Sector Seven members, or with civilians who had been updated and made aware of just what and who they were taking into their homes and garages, and just how dramatically it might change their lives. Those civilians, and even the NEST and S7 members, would be hand selected from a specific group of eligible applicants and volunteers. Those eligible people would be mostly, if not only, people who lived alone. Loners, widows, only-children whose parents and other close family had died.

It was the ideal plan. But they had turned it down; denied and rejected it with their noses in the air and dollar signs in their eyes. The congressmen and various politicians didn't seem to care what this meant. The Cybertronians would no longer provide specific protection over the entirety of the planet. And, not only was the Cybertronian race doomed, but they would now have to find their own way on this hostile planet.

It was times like these, when Optimus nearly questioned whether or not he'd chosen the right side. But he would never allow himself to fully ask the question, and especially never answer it.

His driver grumbled obscenities as he locked his transmission, and drove along at a breezy, Sunday-drive-appropriate fifty miles an hour. The Hummer was a few truck-and-trailer lengths away when the Prime finally released his transmission, and allowed the female in his cab to return to highway speeds.

'_Hello Optimus._' came the medic's voice over his comm. However, the medic earned only a soft grunt, and a revv from the Prime. '_Something's wrong?_' A snort from the Peterbilt, 'There's a human in my cab. Of course there's something wrong.' The medic could taste the bitterness in every word from the Matrix-keeper. '_Well! Sorry I asked!_' Hissed the Hummer, in reply.

A sigh escaped the truck's air tanks. 'I apologize. I am not feeling particularly optimistic at the moment.' The truck rumbled softly, jake brake kicking in for a moment before he pushed himself back up to speed. Ratchet laughed softly, at the slight pun. '_Optimus, you're always an optimist. If you weren't, we'd have to name you Pessimist Prime._' Silence. _Awkward._ '_So what troubles you, friend?_' 'The same thing that always troubles me, my medic.' '_Ahh… eHana?_' 'Correct. I cannot help but-' '_Optimus, do not start your sulking. eHana is a lost cause unless the humans decide it is worthy. Until then, do not trouble yourself over that Energon. It has been spilt for years now, and we both know we can't clean it up without human cooperation._' The medic huffed at the Prime with aggravation. 'Fine. Then what would _you_ like to talk about, Ratchet? Gas prices? Local home sales? The current stress over the edible vegetation availability?' The Prime snapped. '_I can leave if you want._'

The Prime sighed, sinking into his springs as he drove, the Hummer pulling up next to him. 'I apologize again. I cannot rid myself of this edginess. It has been quite persistent since my most recent changing of hands. Maybe if eHana had pulled through-' '_Optimus!_' The Peterbilt sunk even lower, sulking slightly. '_Is there anything that _doesn't_ have some tie to eHana that you would like to talk about?_' '…my paint is gonna fragging kill me…' The medic snorted. '_Does it really hurt that bad?_' He murmured, scanning the details of each little flake, and it's attachment to all the nerve-endings along the leader's armor. 'Mhmm… It hurts worse than having limbs torn off. Whereas limbs hurt at the break, and begin healing, each little chip peels slowly, like rust seeping into my armor.' '_Where are you taking refuge currently?_' The Prime let out another sigh at the thought of that Primus-slagged garage, and quickly sent the coordinates to the medic. '_Wow… You're quite a ways from home, then._' 'It's hardly home. Home is very, very, _very_ far away.'

That statement lapsed them into an awkward silence that stretched like the highway before them.

'_Well, I apologize, Optimus, but my charges will not desist. They are determined to call incessantly until I pick up, and give them my location and direction. The little slaggers are worse than the Twins._' The medic laughed softly. Saying their goodbyes, the medic sped off with one last 'Whoop!' of the siren and a flash of the lights, starling the truck's driver.

The Prime relapsed into silence. It would be a long drive from here on out.

* * *

><p>AN: I beg for forgiveness! I'm a day late posting this. I meant to post it last night, butI didn't get ANYTHING typed over last week. I wasn't even near a computer last week from the time I posted chapter 2 until Sunday night. *dies* I'm sorry! I really am! But at least it's getting posted now. I'm gonna try to start typing this en masse, that way this doesn't happen again... No guarantees though, considering I started typing another fic, now... xD Whoopsies... ;)


	4. Damned Radio! 12:05

Ego Vivo Chapter 4

Fort Worth came and went, in auto-pilot. Before I knew it, we were pulling into the garage, finally home. But then, when I say we, I mean the truck and I. The damned thing had caused me so many problems, but after dropping off the trailer in Texas, it had behaved for the most part. It was like the truck was bipolar. A vehicular form of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.

Backing into the bay that had been designated for the beast, I shut it down, and headed right for the office, envelope in hand, and it's contents making me giddy to reveal. The amount had been more than was agreed to, that my dad told me of, and far more than I was expecting.

Glancing up at the analog clock before I entered the waiting room, I noted 1:37 pm, and opened the door into the room, leaping in dramatically to call attention to myself. But there was only Shaina, sitting at her desk, on the opposite side of the window, filling out some paperwork for who-knew-what. I pouted for a moment, then leaned against the counter on my side of the window, watching the secretary scribble furiously across the form. Tapping softly on the window, she jumped slightly, looking up and smiling. She slid the glass pane open, and squeaked out a soft 'Hi.' the way she always did. I waved the envelope.

"Where's my dad? Any idea?" I asked, peering past her to look at the empty chair behind his desk. "Uhm…" Shaina looked over her shoulder, glancing over the half-wall that divided the office-space between the front desk and the back. "Uhm, I think he said something about having some errands to run..? But, ahh, I'm not sure." Her voice was quiet, but very high, like she inhaled too much helium as a kid and her voice got stuck that way. She looked out the window, to the garage, then back to me, as if contemplating. I raised a brow. "Uhm…" I rolled my eyes, and reached over, picking up the phone, and trying to comprehend the numbers upside-down. Dialing my dad's number, I got no answer. So I dialed Aiden's number. He picked up immediately.

"_Hullo?_" "Hey, Aiden. It's Di. Are you with my dad?" "_Ayup. He's right here. But ahh, he's got his hands a bit full. He's in the middle of an oil change on my car._" "_He's_ changing the oil on _your _car?" I shook my head, and continued, "I will never understand how you can take on these mammoth trucks every day, and know every inch of nearly every model, or make just about any repair, replacement, change, etc, on them, but yet, you still don't know how to change the oil on your car." I laughed. He grumbled something I couldn't make out, then, "_Is there an actual reason why you called?_" "Yup. One, I'm back. Two, tell him I got ten." The mechanic on the other end paused, confused. "_Uhm… Okay..? Sure… So, ahh, is that it?_" "Yes. That's it." I laughed again. "_Mkay… Bye_." "Byeee!"

I put the phone back on the cradle, and said to Shaina, "He is so unpleasant on the phone." She simply smiled shyly and murmured a soft "Yeah…" in agreement. '_And you are still so untalkative._' I thought to myself. Heading into the office, I parked myself at my desk, and waited for the return of my two mechanics.

X~X~X

About an hour later, my father and Aiden strolled into the office. I sat up from my drooling nap session on my desk. Stretching as I stood up, I grabbed the envelope off my desk and held it out to my dad. "Ten." I stated. "Seriously?" "Yup. One thou, because I was 'fast, early, and nothing was damaged.' according to the guy in the office." Aiden looked over his shoulder, from where he was bent over Shaina's desk, trying -and failing- to flirt with the shy receptionist. "Wait, ten bills? As in, a one with _three_ zeroes?" I nodded. "Holy shit! No kidding! I know you said ten, but I didn't realize you meant ten bills! I figured you meant like ten percent or something! Goddamn!" I smirked, and laughed, "It doesn't mean you're getting a raise, though!" He pouted.

"So did you have fun?" My dad asked from the seat he'd taken at his desk. I grimaced, and my shoulders fell. "It was horrible. I got fucking smacked by some punk in a stupid little Impala, and one of the tires on the trailer blew out. I lost almost half a day because of it! Then, the rest of the way there, the truck wouldn't cooperate! It kept breaking down, stalling out, reparking itself. Not even kidding! I put it in the middle of a parking lot, walked away, and when I came back, it was on the far edge! Friggin' haunted truck…" I grumbled. "Oh! And I still need a radio! I thought I was gonna die! I spent the entire time in silence, except for the engine and other cars going by!" My dad laughed, and stabbed the Pepsi in his hands with a screwdriver on his desk. I rolled my eyes, "Is there something wrong with using the tab?" He snorted and took a long slurp. I shook my head at him, and walked towards the door.

"Well, I might as well go get a radio. There's no way in hell I'm going on another run in silence. And I think we could spare $20 out of that ten." My dad sniggered again, "See ya in a bit, Pikachu." I rolled my eyes at the nickname. I'd been Pikachu since I was a kid. I still had no idea why. I never wore yellow as a kid, never had stripes on my ass, or bunny ears, or mysterious electric powers. But then, I did tend to blush a lot, and turn bright red…

Walking out to the garage, and past the Peterbilt to the baby blue and grey Dodge Cummins, grabbing for keys that weren't on my hip like usual. Looking over my shoulder, I glared at the flakey semi that held my key ring. I had left the keys in it, out of habit. It was a bad habit, I know, but I still did it all the time. I also wasn't use to having trucks that locked themselves at random. If I wanted to go anywhere, I'd have to get that key clip out of the truck. Or rather, fight the key clip out of the truck, if it went like the last time I left keys in this thing. I sighed, rubbed my head awkwardly, and approached the driver side door.

It looked like a normal truck door, bubble-crackle-chip paint and all. But the horror it had put me through in just over a week? Oh no. This was unquestionably the truck door from heeeell. I glared at the hatch-handle for a moment, then hesitantly, pulled it. It popped, and creaked open in response to my pull. I stared at the interior, the spotless leather and mirror-clean finish on the chrome. Why was the inside so damned good looking and the outside beat to hell? 'The world may never know', but I was hella curious. Spotting the keys, I immediately snatched them off the floor, and slammed the door, turning away. But the door suddenly flung back open, and smacked me in the back of the head. I yelped, and just about ran to the Dodge.

X~X~X

Seven or eight days ago, I had been intrigued by this truck. Now, I was terrified to be too close to it. I stood in front of the truck, contemplating. Radio in hand, I was having another stare-down with the face on the grill. It glared at me, and I glared back. I glanced down at the box in my hand, contemplating. Did I even bother fighting with this truck right now?

The clock on the office wall chimed once, marking the start of a new hour. I looked up at it. 7PM. I didn't realize I'd been waiting that long for my dad and Aiden. But then, I really didn't feel like staying here all night again, working on this damned truck. I'd done that more than enough in those few days after I bought it. Sighing, I set the box on the step under the driver side door, and shook my head, walking into the office to shut lights off. I'd deal with it tomorrow.

X~X~X

Walking in like a zombie, I flicked lights on. The office, the garage, the break area at the back. The clock pointed to 5:30 AM. I winced at the idea of being up so early, and shuddered with a yawn and a stretch. First task of the day was to put that new radio in. After that, commence middle-of-the-year spring cleaning.

I groaned at the idea of dealing with the truck so early in the morning. Walking over to the beast, I was startled to find the box gone. I looked all over the shop. In the office, the break area, around the truck, in my toolbox, in, on, and around my and my dad's desk. Hell, even the trash. I huffed. Maybe I put it in the truck, and just forgot? Opening the door and taking a good step back, I glared into the cab from my vantage point. It wasn't on the floor, nor the seat or dash. Pulling myself up, and sitting on the edge of the seat, I glanced back, into the sleeper. It was dark, and next to impossible to see into. I hadn't noticed that before. Normally, the roof lights came on when you opened the doors. I sighed, and shifted myself around, climbing into the back. Thwacking my head on the very light I was looking for, it suddenly lit up. I growled and grumbled to myself about all the ways I was gonna tear this truck apart when I finally had the funds.

I had known from the start, from the look on the outside, and the price, that this truck would be a problem child. But never in my years had I dealt with so much trouble in a vehicle. I had seen and fixed numerous mechanical issues on any number of vehicles of all makes and models. However, never had I run into such a truck where everything did what it wanted, whether it was fixed, broken, or otherwise unknown.

I cursed under my breath as I remembered that I'd have to get the truck painted soon. If I didn't, it would give my up-and-coming business-of-one a bad reputation. Nobody liked an ugly truck. I'd have to pay my friend Mikey a visit. But in the meantime…

Looking around the sleeper, under the bed, in all the little cabinets and nooks and crannies that these trucks were built with, I still didn't find the radio. Sprawled out across the sleeper, I hooked my arms under my head, staring at the ceiling of the cab. I was suddenly wishing I'd slept in the rear extension of the cab. It was surprisingly comfy. However, on that one trip I'd taken with this truck, I was afraid it would drive off while I was sleeping, and so, slept in the driver's seat every time I did manage to sleep.

The light flickered, and went out. I growled and sat up, looking back to the front of the cab. I focused on the dash, and slapped my forehead. I could recognize the dulled red backlights of the stereo I'd purchased. I pushed myself up, and into the driver seat. Unclipping the keys off my belt loop, I quickly started the truck up. I couldn't remember- no. I _know_ I didn't put that radio in last night. But who knew. Maybe my dad had come to the shop in the middle of the night and threw it in for me. I'd ask him later, when he came in.

The truck rumbled to life beneath my fingers, all the dials rising to their allotted points and lighting up at the flick of the appropriate switch. The radio lit up as well, blinking the time, and making me smile. But then "_GOOD- MORNING- DIANE_" flashed across the screen. My eyes widened slightly, and the smile fell. Dad must've done this! It had to be a prank or something. There was no other way it could've- I rubbed my hands over my face and shook my head, climbing out of the truck. I was losing it. It's not like the truck could've known my name! Either my dad or Aiden must've messed with it last night and programmed it to say that. I shook my head again, quickly finding a new task to distract myself with.

X~X~X

7 AM rolled around, and my dad came in. 7:30, and Shaina came in. 7:45 and Wild Bill, one of Dad's friends walked in. 8 AM whizzed by. About quarter after 8, Aiden strolled in, from the looks of it, hung over. Or just tired as hell. I raised a brow when he walked by, sprawling himself out in the break room, and burying his face in the couch cushions. I grimaced at the thought of just how dirty, greasy, oily that couch had to be from all of us sitting on it at random times, almost always dirtier than hell.

"What's wrong? Stay up too late?" I taunted from the doorway. He flipped me off, then grumbled out, "Phahr. Phahrphahrphahrtoorate." He turned his head up, eyes closed, and continued, "I will never, ever leave early to go out drinking. Wild Bill can hold more beer than a camel can hold water. Man, he got me fugged up last night." He murmured with a soft laugh. "Wait. You left early?" "Mhmm… Sigsogloguh." He said, pressing his face into a pillow. "So you didn't come in last night?" He nodded, sort of. "Oh." I drifted off, staring firmly at the floor.

Well that made things interesting. My dad and Wild Bill had said similar; that they hadn't been in the shop since they'd left last night, which was before I left. Aiden turned his head back for a moment, to state, "Wild Bill is one crazy bastard. That guy downed like 3 bottles of- of- of whatever we were doing! Do you realize how many shots you can get out of 3 freaking bottles?" The mechanic thumped his face back into a pillow. I raised a brow, startled slightly by the randomness of the comment, and backed out of the break area.

And right into the very cowboy my mechanic had just been rambling about. I spun around, startled. "Hey! Howerrya, Princess Diana?" He exclaimed, gripping my shoulders, and smiling brightly. If there was one thing definite about Bill, it was that he was- well, he was hard to describe, aside from unusual, different, and an interesting character. Every time he stopped in, which was every couple of days, sometimes even every day, he acted like he hadn't seen you in weeks, or months. He always had an Aussie-style cowboy hat on his head, alligator-skin details and braided rope and all. His dark brown hair reached just below his shoulders, but it consisted of an unkempt frizz. His chipper self always had me smiling, because he just had that kind of attitude. That nothing could go wrong that he couldn't put a positive spin on attitude. Hurricane? Well we needed water anyways! Car crash? You didn't like that car, anyways, and weren't you just looking at getting a new one? House burned down? Well, you said you were looking for a fresh start. Here it was; take the insurance money and run! He was just that kind of person.

"I'm good, Bill." I laughed. "So whaderyah up tah nowh?" Damn that accent. It wasn't quite Southern, but it just sounded so cool, especially to a New Englander like me. "Not much. I'm just trying to figure out what happened to my radio." "I's like dis big by dis big?" His hands twisted back and forth to represent the general size of the box he must've been thinking of. I nodded hesitantly, in response.

His face lit up, and he smiled even wider than he had been. "Oh! Ah know whur daas at! Ah saw der box forrid dis mornun!" he suddenly picked me up off my feet, and spun me around, hands still clamped on my shoulders. I yelped softly, when he suddenly dropped me down again. "Yew stay rider, Princess Dianah! Awhl be ride bahg wif dad box. Hit was ahn da workbench earleher." He exclaimed, holding up his pointer finger, to say he'd be back in a minute, then running across the shop. I laughed softly to myself. I'd never understand where he got all his energy. Whatever he was smoking, it worked damned good. I shook my head, hoping he was just naturally this happy. I was straight-edge. It was one of the few things in my life I could be proud about.

The cowboy came bounding back, holding the box to my radio. I smiled, taking the box. "Thanks, Bill. Eheh, where was it?" He pointed to the back wall, at one of the work benches that was squashed between a number of massive toolboxes. "Hit was buhahnd ther trock. Dah ugleh one yer bought da udder naught." I raised a brow. He pointed to the Peterbilt. I paled slightly, and uttered a soft, "Oh…" "Soomethin' wrong, Dianah?" I looked back up at him and shook my head. "No. Ahh, thanks… Bill…" He flashed a smiled, and bounded off towards the office. I shuddered slightly and shook my head. That man was a puppy in the body of a man, minus the leg-humping.

Shaking it off, I looked at the box. It had been ripped open, no care taken to cut the tape. Just ripped open, like a dog had been let at it, as if it were a chew toy. _A sixty dollar chew toy._ I thought to myself. The instructions stuck out, shredded. I huffed a sigh, and chucked the box at one of the trash cans a ways away. It missed. My head dropped, and I sighed again. Looking up, I saw my dad grab it, and drop the box in it's new home, the beaten metal barrel. I flashed a smile to him, and he tipped his head up to me. Digging out my phone, I flicked through contacts. I needed to get that stupid truck painted, before my dad sent me on another cross-country trek.

Spotting the auto body repair specialist's name, I quickly dialed Mikey. He'd painted all of my vehicles in the past, including the Kenworth dump truck that was collecting it's fair share of mud at one of my dad's other friend's houses. The deep pine green truck had been bought as a donor vehicle for a different Kenny, but after finding out that most of the supposed issues with it weren't actually existent, it had become my test vehicle. Buy it, fix it, flip it and buy a new truck. That was where the Peterbilt had come in. But I had fallen too in love with it at first, and decided I'd keep it. Now I was second-thinking the decision.

After a number of rings, the voicemail picked up. "_Hello. Hola. You've reached Mikey. I'm busy right now, and-_" Another voice cut in, in the background of the recording. _"¿¡Que estás hablando? ¡Date prisa! ¡Vamos!_" The first voice came back, yelling at the second, "_Mama! ¡Espera! ¡Callado!_" A sharp sigh, and soft muttering, then "_I can't get to the phone. But leave a message and I'll try to get back to you._" I laughed softly at the recording on the answering machine, and hung up. Spinning around, my dad had disappeared, so I simply shouted, "Dad I'll be back in a bit. I'm heading to Mikey's!" My father's voice shouted back "'Kay! See ya later. Love ya!" from the direction of the office window. "Love ya! Bye!" I replied, laughing softly at our odd habits, and heading back to the Peterbilt, keys in hand.

X~X~X

Pulling into the small driveway of the pint-size warehouse and auto-paint studio, I immediately felt at home. Mikey's little shop consisted of a two-car-garage-turned-paint-booth with an office attached to the side. There was on figure sitting in a lawn chair with a beach umbrella, newspaper wide-open. I smiled, as I climbed out of the truck. "Hola,, la ! Como estas?" (Hello, . How are you?) I asked, as I approached the figure. The newspaper lowered, and the dark brown eyes of Mikey's mother peered over thick glasses. "Oh, Diane! Estoy muy bien, gracias! Y como estas, querida?" (I am very well, thank you! And how are you, my dear?) She said cheerfully, a smile gracing her lips. "Ehh, mas o menos." (Ehh, so-so.) I said, shaking my hand from side to side. She sat forward, and I promptly leaned down and kissed her cheek.

"Esta usted aqua para ver Michelangelo?" (Are you here to see Michelangelo?) I nodded. "Miguel? Salir de aqua! Usted tiene la gente aqua para que vea!" She shouted in the direction of the garage. I shook my head. So much Spanish, over my head. "Como esta tu padre?" (How is your father?) She asked. I smiled. She was always concerned about my father. But then again, we were peas in a pod, our two families. Mikey's father had left when he was young. I had lost my mother when I was young. "El es bueno, como siempre." (He is good, as always.) I replied. She nodded, sitting back, and returning to her newspaper.

The great thing about Mama Ramos. She never dragged out a conversation. She asked what she thought was important, and after that, to hell with ya! A few minutes later, the specialist emerged from the office, paint-splattered already. "Mikey,-" I exclaimed, "You're already dirty? It's not even 9 o'clock!" "So are you, chikka!" My friend replied, pointing to my shoulders. I looked at my shoulders. They were, indeed, dirty. "Oh, sonuva- Wild Bill!" I grumbled, shaking my fist at empty air. He laughed, revealing whiter-than-white teeth. "Ahh, but you're not here to talk about my wardrobe, eh?" I smiled, "Unfortunately, no. I have a truck for you." I stated, thumbing towards the Peterbilt. "Where? Is it behind that ugly thing? Across the street? Down the block?" He inquired, looking around. Already, he didn't want to do it. I knew the feeling.

"Nope. sorry, Mikey, but this is it." I said, turning to the truck. "No. No, senora! No way in Hell am I working on that monster!" He snapped, turning his back to me and folding his arms. "Oh, come on! Please, Mikey! You know you still owe me after-" "Shh! DON'T say _anything_ in front of Mama!" "_Pleaaase_?" I begged, folding my hands, and kneeling down on one knee. A soda can suddenly bounced off the painter's head. "Lo major es hacer lo que pide!" Mama shouted, shaking a finger at him. "What'd she say?" I murmured, quiet enough that she couldn't hear me. "Pero mama, ella es una locura! _Una locura_!" He shouted back. "No voy a escuchar sus excusas! Hacerlo o de lo contrario!" I raised a brow. He looked over at me, and grunted out "Fine!" I smiled and hugged him.

He rolled his eyes and waved me off, "Come on! Vamanos! Get it in here! You better help me! This thing will take me at least a week!" "Woah, hold on! A week?" I exclaimed. "I need it a.s.a.p! As in, tomorrow, or the day after! My dad's gonna be piling more stuff on me soon!" "Nuh-nuh-nuh-nuh-no! I am _not_ gonna cram this into two days!" He shouted. "Then do it in three!" I shouted back. "No! I need _at least_ two days to prep, another two to paint, and then minimum, one to cure!" "Mikey, I need it yesterday! Five days is way too much!" "Argh! Why do you-" "Miguel! You help her!" Mama commanded again. You knew shit was getting serious when Mama spoke in English. The Latino teen snarled something in Spanish, and waved at me. "Fine! Three days! No less! And you better have more to go off of than what's left! I can't work with this! There's not enough left to identify so much as the paint codes, never mind any actual pattern or design!" He snapped, throwing his hands in the truck's direction. "I have an entire bulletin board plastered with reference pictures." I replied. "I'll go get them, and let you get ready. And then, when I get back, we ca get started." "I don't care!" He hissed, waving me away. I flinched slightly. _Well sorry…_

X~X~X

Three days and a lot of arguing, yelling, and throwing things later, the truck was, as promised, done. The paint was immaculate, and spot-on-perfect to the reference pictures. I was driving it back to the shop. When Mikey had told me it was ready, he'd just about chased me out. As kids, we'd been the best of friends, but then I'd had to save his ass from some deep shit, and ever since then, we'd never seen eye to eye.

_Almost home._ I thought, patting the wheel in rhythm to the song that played over the finally-working radio. The music suddenly cut out, startling me slightly at the abrupt silence. Pushing into the next gear, I looked over at the radio. The screen was black. I groaned, and grumbled to myself. Joyous. Of course the radio would die now. I had to go to shop, pick up some paperwork, and head out on my next run, as soon as I got there! Why me?

* * *

><p>AN: Well, lemme be honest. Complete and total filler chapter. Sorry guys. But I have to get some kind of character development in somewhere! Not to mention, throw in a bunch of minor characters who will play all manner of important roles down the road. But I swear, honest to Primus. Next chapter. Action. Or at least, we finally get to see our most favorite character in the whole universe! Sort of... :P Well, you'll see what I mean next week. Read and Review? Please? :)  
>Edit: Edited it, and re-uploaded it. When I uploaded it last night, I was in so much of a rush to just get it posted, that I totally forgot to proof read or _anything_! Sorry 'bout that, guys. _'


	5. Scatterbrain 12:19

Ego Vivo Chapter Five

Finally, I was back on the road. I had a scatterbrain route. Pick up a trailer in Boston, drive it to somewhere just outside of Detroit, Michigan and drop it off. Pick up a flatbed from the same place, with a front-loader on it, and drive to Miami, Florida. The thought of all the miles I had to go was daunting, especially considering the timeframe I had to do it all. I had a little more than two days to get to all three places, so every minute was precious. The front-loader that was coming from Michigan was needed immediately in Miami, and if it didn't show up before a certain time, I was going to lose a lot of money, as a late fee.

I shuddered at the thought. I was going to get a good couple grand for making these two runs in succession, and from what the hiring company had told my dad, and then my dad told me, their late fee was a minimum of $250 per hour it was late. My dad had said something about go fast and don't get caught, but I was gonna play it safe. Okay, well, safe-ish. I wouldn't do ninety, like my dad probably would've, but I would definitely nudge the speedometer a little bit over the speed limit, as long as I stayed with the flow of traffic.

This run was extremely important, if I wanted to get a business going. If I wanted to head up a company that ran ten or more of these trucks at a time across the country, I had to make a good reputation of being on time, and I had to make a lot of money. This was step one in the process. Get a good reputation, but luckily, it just happened to come with a partial step two, as long as I could follow through with step one.

~X~X~

I sighed and rested my head against the window as the radio flicked out again. The glass was cold, and rain trickled down it, and sprinkled all across the windshield. I rattled the shifter again, to check it's neutral status. The minivan in front of me crept forward and the other cars around me inched forward. Somewhere ahead of us, there had been an accident, no doubt. Numerous emergency vehicles had whizzed past in a rush to the scene. Nearly an hour had ticked by, and traffic was barely crawling forward. I shuddered at the thought of what waiting here was doing to my time-line. I barely had time to spare as it was. I'd have to find somewhere to cut corners and save myself time, to make up for this.

Shaking off the worry, I looked over at the four-door hatchback next to me. There were two kids in the back seat, glued to the window, inspecting the paint on my truck. I could see the reflection of the red and blue flames on the side of their silver car. I smiled and laughed under my breath. If there was one thing I _did_ love about this truck, it was seeing the way people reacted when they drove by. It was hilarious! They got all bug-eyed, then their jaws dropped, and they started pointing and talking about it with their passengers, when such were in the car.

The radio flicked back on. I picked my head up off the window and glared at it for a few moments then looked back at the road. The minivan had inched forward just a smidge more, but I didn't move in on it. Looking back at the hatchback, the two kids were still watching my truck in awe. Then they looked up at me, and waved enthusiastically. I flashed a smile and waved back.

Then their mother, or at least, I assumed it was their mother, in the front passenger seat spun around and scolded them. They both flinched and backed away from the window. I pouted, and then, with an evil grin, honked the air horn. The woman and the man in the driver seat jumped out of their skins, and the car jolted forward. I snickered to myself. The two kids in the car looked up at me again, and I showed a wide, glowing smile. They both smiled at me in return.

Looking back forward at the minivan in front of me, it was starting to move again, and the line of traffic in front of it was starting to move. The radio suddenly changed stations, flicking through random songs and channels and then blurbed out random bits of songs. I raised a brow, and hit the Power button. The radio powered down, and turned off. I shook my head. _Go figure. I wanted a radio, and I got one! But it's a defective piece of shit! My luck._

The vehicles around me started to inch forward, and then legitimately move. Pushing the clutch in and making for a gear, the truck suddenly stalled out. I huffed and restarted it. "Anything to give me trouble, eh?" I murmured. Pushing the truck into gear successfully, the truck started moving. I revved up the engine, letting the Jake brake kick in and drag the engine back down. I smiled at the sound. If there was one thing I loved about semi's, it was the sound of the Jake brake kicking in. I revved it back up, and let it idle back down, and as the minivan in front of me kept moving, I revved the truck back up once more, and pushed for another gear.

The truck suddenly jerked, and skipped into fourth gear. I yelped, and tried to pull the shifter out, and fix my mistake, but the truck ran with it, and leapt up to speed. The minivan started moving at a steady pace, and then took on a bit of speed, and the truck followed. I smiled. The truck was quite disobedient, but at least it was playing nice. Sort of. Do one bad act, and make up for it with a good? I shook my head. It was a truck. Not a person, or an animal, or anything else. _I must be losing it. Next I'm gonna start talking to it._ I snorted at the thought. I did have a tendency for talking to inanimate objects; mostly yelling at them when they didn't cooperate. The traffic as a whole kicked up to speed, and with a slow-and-steady pace, got back up to a solid fifty.

Another cop car, a Mustang, zipped by in the breakdown lane, and then, moments after, a Dodge Charger sped by, on the Mustang's tail. The truck revved softly, even though I hadn't touched the pedal. I raised a brow. Shaking it off, we continued along.

X~X~X

I yawned, glancing at the radio. It was on again, and shown a blindingly bright 11:30PM. I yawned again, and shook my head. "Gotta wake up." I mumbled to myself, rubbing my face with one hand. Then, glancing back at the radio, I switched through a few of the channels, but everything was sleepy-nighttime music, rather than casual nighttime music. I hissed under my breath, and grabbed my bag off the passenger-side floor. Hauling it up into my lap, I dug through it, keeping my eyes on the road, and only occasionally looking down to dig. Finding my CD binder, I pulled it out, and by memory, picked the 3rd CD. Glancing at the face of it, I smirked. Endgame by Rise Against. I quickly nudged the CD into the mouth of the radio, and put on a full-blown smile when Architects came through the speakers. The speakers in this truck were amazing! Why had somebody let this truck go with a broken radio? Hell, why had _I_ let it go with a broken radio? Nodding along to the song, I tried, but failed to hold back another yawn.

I shook my head roughly, to wake myself up some more. I only had a little bit farther to go, and then I'd be at my drop-off site. If I could make it there, then I could pick up my next load, and stop at a truck stop, and take a break for the night. I glanced at the green highway sign that came up on me. 28 miles to my destination. I sighed, and grumbled under my breath. Even at a steady seventy, that was another half hour. I was ready to fall asleep now, never mind half an hour from now. I turned up the volume, after flicking to Disparity by Design.

Bobbling my head along, I felt another yawn sneak up on me, but I forced it down to a sigh, and shook it off. I went another few minutes before I could feel my eyes getting heavy. I shook my head again, and glancing in my mirrors, I flicked my right blinker on, and pulled over. There was no way I would make it to my stop. I yawned and stretched out.

Turning the volume way down on the radio, then pulling the keys out of the ignition, I sprawled my legs out across the cab, and rest my feet on the passenger seat. Rubbing my face, I nudged the hazards switch on, and rested my head against the door. Releasing yet another yawn, I closed my eyes, and promised myself I'd make it a short nap. Only an hour or two… Then I'd drop this trailer off and get that other one… And take another nap… And go…

X~X~X

When I woke up, there were blinding white lights shining into the cab. I hissed and sat up, rubbing my face and yawning. Stretching, and reaching for my toes, I sat up, and looked around. This was not where I had stopped. I had stopped on the highway. Now, the truck was parked in a truck stop, just a few spaces from the front of the parking lot. I shook myself awake, and after a few minutes of rubbing my face and shaking life back into my limbs, I turned myself forward in the seat.

The radio lit up the back of the cab with the bright 2:38AM. I groaned and shook my head to myself. Somewhere, somehow, I had lost about 3 hours. _Three freaking HOURS!_ I grimaced at the thought. Tugging my phone out of my pocket, it confirmed the 2:38AM, then beeped at me that it's battery was almost dead. I rolled my eyes, and dug the charger out of my bag, plugging it in.

Grabbing my wallet off the floor and shoving it in my jeans pocket, and then the keys off the floor in about the same place I remember dropping them, I climbed out of the truck, and headed for the store across the parking lot. The only good thing about where I had parked it in my subconscious -or however I managed to get it here- was that I could watch it from the store.

Glancing back at the trailer, my jaw dropped. Not only had I got the truck to this truckstop, but I had switched out trailers already, apparently. Rubbing my face with both of my hands, I headed towards the store. I needed coffee. ASAP. Little did I know that this coffee run would be my biggest mistake since buying the truck.

~X~X~

I was walking out with my coffee -$2.38 for a tiny friggin' coffee that's gonna last me half an hour- and heading to the truck, reading the receipt as I walked. I looked up… And dropped my coffee. My truck was driving off. Without a driver. Or keys. I just about shit myself on the spot. I just stood in the middle of the nearly empty expanse of parking lot, gawking at the trailer that had been left behind. It sat there, looking lonely without a truck. I sighed and buried my face in hands for a few moments. What the hell was I suppose to do now? My phone was in the truck. My phone, all of my paperwork, all of my clothes. Ahh, fuck me. Now all I had was my wallet, with minimal in it. My keys, a bit of cash, my gas card -useless now-, my license, ID, and some other useless stuff. I sighed again, and looked down at the coffee I'd just lost. I huffed, grabbed the empty cup and tossed it in the trash. I might as well get a new one, while I figure out what the hell I'm gonna do…

"Weren't you just-?" The cashier started. "Yeah. I was. I dropped it…" I grumbled, handing her the change she'd handed to me, just minutes ago. A new coffee in hand, I walked back out, and parked myself on a bench, just outside the door. If I kept losing time like this, I was going to end up so late to Miami, I'd be paying them, rather than the other way around. I grimaced, and sipped my coffee. This was going to be the longest wait, for anything in my life, ever.

~X~X~

Maybe an hour later, the truck returned. I'd finished off my coffee and tossed the cup in the trash, then found a seat on the flatbed trailer, which was arced in a smile from use, and especially from the monster that was the front-loader strapped down to it. It pulled over in front of the trailer, backed itself under the trailer with pinpoint precision, and stopped, releasing a hiss of air. I jumped off the trailer, and approached the driver's side. Nobody in it. I jumped slightly when the door popped itself open, beckoning me to get in. Hesitantly, I did such, and the door closed, again of it's own power.

"So…" I started, "You drive yourself now?" I waited for a response, but didn't get one. I glared at the dash, and noted the radio, the blue letters lighting the dark expanse of the cab.

'_YES'_ I snorted to myself, ran a hand through my hair, and gave out a soft sigh.

"Is my driving _that bad_?" I asked with a laugh.

'_NO'_

"Then why did you leave?" _'_

_HAD TO'_

"Why?"

'_COP'_ I face palmed. Great.

"So my truck is running from the law. Great. My record is clean slate, but my truck isn't! Fuck…" I hissed. _'_

_NOT- RUN- NING- CHAS- ING'_ I jerked up.

"You were _chasing _a_ cop?_" I shouted at the windshield. I buried my face in my hand, grumbling softly. _'_

_HAD TO'_ blinked repeatedly across the radio screen.

"So what are you? A haunted truck?" _'_

_NO'_

"A robot?" _'_

_SORT- OF'_

"A machine?"

'_YES- AND NO'_

"Yes and no? What the hell is that suppose to mean?" _'_

_CAN WE- JUST- GO- ALREADY- ?'_ I snorted.

"Fine… Are you-?"

'_I DRIVE- YOU- SIT'_

Great. Kidnapped by my own truck. Sort of… Does it still count as kidnapping if you got in the vehicle by your own will? 

* * *

><p>AN: Ugh... So sorry for this, guys... Horribly short chapter, AND I didn't update last week. last week, I didn't update for a few reasons. One, I got two reviews... I was really disappointed... :/ Two, I had practically nothing, because I was writing a different story, that I didn't post. Three, I posted another fic, Spare Tires, which I was hoping might tide all two of my readers over, lol... Anyways, we're halfway there! Sort of...? Well, we're there-ish... Next chapter will be more exciting, and I already have part of it written! Woohoo! I might even post it early, or at least, on time, which for me, will be some time before 9pm on Monday night, I hope, maybe. :P Anyways, I'll shut up now...

Read. Review. Love or flame. Whatever drags your boat up a mountain.


	6. Questions and Stressful Answers 1:03

The woman in his passenger seat shifted. She leaned against the window for a few moments. Then pulled her legs up onto the seat. Then after a few seconds, let her legs down, and leaned against the arm rest on her other side. Then sat up and rested her arms against his steering wheel.

The Peterbilt's engine growled, but the sound was lost on his "driver". She shifted again, to return to leaning against the window. Then leaned over to play with his radio. The Prime suddenly let out a sharp snarl that made her flinch and sit back with her hands in her lap.

"Sorry..." She murmured, and then, "So... Uhm... Do you have a name..?" He thought for a moment. Did he dare bother telling this useless woman his name? In all honesty, he just wanted to dump her out of his cab already and be done with her. She'd caused him a Pit of a lot of pain. But then, she'd only been doing what her parental unit told her to do. And she had fixed his paint up quite nicely. Primus knew when she'd been sanding his frame down, it had felt so unbelievably nice.

After thinking for a few minutes, though it felt more like hours for the human in his front seat, he responded. Glowing arrows ran successively across the radio, pointing towards the passenger side of the truck. She glanced over, and spotted the bold, red scripted letters, spelling out _Optimus Prime_. She nodded slowly.  
>"So your name is O-Optimus? Optimus Prime?"<br>'_CORRECT_''  
>"Huh... I like it. That's a really cool name. Just saying. It's better than my name.-" She snorted, "-My name is Diane, by the way. Diana Catherine LaVelle. But everybody calls me Dee. Well, except my dad. My dad calls me Pikachu. Has since I was a little kid. I still don't know why but-" She suddenly slapped a hand over her mouth. "Sorry. I'm rambling. I do that when I'm nervous. I'm not nervous, but I am worried about my deadline, and now you're- you're-"<br>'_ALIVE- ?_' The woman seemed to consider this answer.  
>"A-Are you really-? y-yknow... Ah-Ah-Al-"<br>'_YES- AS MUCH- ALIVE- AS YOU- ARE_'  
>She stared at the radio, startled. Then finally breathed a soft, "Wow..." Sitting up straighter, she looked out the window to her left, and continued, "Just... Wow! I mean, I just can't- Wait. Are you some kind of government experiment or something? Something from Area 51 or some garbage like that? Or somebody's crazy garage experiment gone wrong?"<br>The radio was blank for a few moments, and then, '_NEITHER- I AM AN- AS YOU- HUMANS- WOULD- SAY AN- ALIEN_' At this, the woman jerked slightly. '_I HAVE- BEEN- HERE- LIVING- IN SEC- RET WITH- A TEAM- FOR A- SMALL- TIME- BUT NOW- WE ARE- SCATTERED- ACROSS- YOUR- PLANET_''

~X~X~

I stared at the radio screen. _Wow... Just wow..._ Glancing at the radio again, I was stunned. '_IS SOME- THING- WRONG?_' Stuttering over my words a bit, I finally got out, "N-no. I-I'm fine. I just- I never- I- Well, in the back of my mind, I could never, ever believe that humans were the only living things in the universe. It just doesn't make sense. In all the multiverse, trillions and trillions of lightyears of space, with hundreds of thousands of other planets, and at least a few hundred that are similar to Earth, humans are alone? No way. And of all the people in the world, me? How is it that I of all people ended up meeting something that's non-Earth-based?"  
>'<em>CHANCE<em>'

"But... In six-point-some-odd billion people, why me?"

'_PURE- ACCIDENT _'

I '_hrmph_'-ed and settled into the seat. _Is this really just an accident? Or is it a set-up? Some kind of cruel joke? A prank to get under my skin, and stab me in all my soft spots? No way. This is way too smart for just my dad and Aiden…_

"…Wasn't the radio screen red?" I muttered.

'_DON'T- LIKE- RED_' I snorted at that. My truck has color preferences now?

"But what about the paint? You're a red and blue truck! Ya have been since I bought you!"

'_THAT'S- DIFFE- RENT- I HAVE- ALWAYS- BEEN- RED AND- BLUE_' I raised a brow. _Alrighty then… Not the answer I was expecting…_

"So now what? Do I end up at the bottom of a river with cement shoes; or in a spaceship, getting probed like some science experiment; or a bounty on my head, set by the government, with my picture at the top of the Most Wanted List?" The radio was blank. It stayed that way for a while, until finally, '_I WOULD- PREFER- THAT YOU- TOLD NO- OTHER- PERSON- OF WHAT- YOU JUST- LEARNED- AND THAT- YOU DON'T- SPEAK TO- ANY GOVE- RNMENT- WORKERS- I MAY BE- CONSIDE- RED A- HAZARD- CURRENT- LISTED- AS A FLI- GHT__ RISK- AND TOP- PRIORITY- THREAT_'

My eyes widened. _Hazard? Flight risk? Threat!_ My heart twisted in my chest. I was sitting inside a terrorist, in vehicular form. That was what I had gathered from what I had just read on the radio. "So you're a terrorist? You been running 'round, killing people, and blowing up buildings?"

'_NO THAT- IS NOT- AT ALL- WHAT I- AM TRY- ING TO- SAY_' There was a pause, and then the words continued to flick across the screen, '_WHAT I AM- SAYING- IS THAT I- AM DANG- EROUS AS- DEEMED- BY THE- GOV_' I tilted my head slightly.

"You were framed, then? Sort of… Framed, but without being pinned with a crime. They're just trying to lock you up and make sure that you're under their little finger, no matter what they do. Right?"

'_CORRECT_' I nodded. I couldn't imagine being trapped like that, like a rat in a cage. I sighed softly, and rested my hands on the steering wheel, then murmured, "That's horrible…"

The engine gave a faint rumble in agreement. Glancing at the radio, it had returned to the time. 6:17 AM. I yawned instinctively, and stretched. "So where are we? We're still headed towards Miami, right?" The radio went blank from the radio, and glowed blue, '_CORRECT_' _Hnh… This truck sure does like that word. Correct. Correct. Correct. Correct. Everything is always CORRECT. What the hell…_ I rolled my eyes to myself.

"Are you gonna drive the whole way there?"

'_YES_'

_Damn_. I pouted slightly, and sunk back into the seat, arms folded.

'_DO YOU- WANT TO- DRIVE?_' I sat up a bit at that, and quickly replied, "Hell yes!" The engine rumbled in what I guessed to be a laugh. I responded by putting my hands on the wheel. It felt loose in my grip, and responded to my touch like a normal truck. I smiled. Maybe this truck wasn't so bad, even if it was more than a truck and had a bone to pick with the government and has problems with authority in general, and-

No. I could _not_ be okay with this truck! I couldn't! My record was clean! This truck's record was obviously anything but! I flicked my glance to the car that was passing me in the left lane, and started spacing out, watching the road go by. After a few moments, the wheel tugged slightly, pulling my attention back to the road. I shook my head, glancing at the radio, then back at the road, then back at the radio. '_YOU'RE- TIRED- WE'LL- STOP- AT THE- NEXT- EXIT_' I nodded and murmured, "That sounds kinda nice… Get myself some coffee. And some cigarettes, 'cause I can see already that I'll be needing them."

~X~X~

About an hour later, we were pulling off the highway, and pulling into a shopping plaza. "Park in the back forties. More space, less people, and less of a chance to get smacked by somebody's door." The truck did as told, and parked as far away from the rest of the vehicles as possible, swinging the Wide-Load trailer with the precision that not even a Grade A veteran driver could pull off. I climbed out, and whistled, inspecting the spot-on perfect parking.

"That's some damned nice maneuvering, right there, my friend." I muttered. The horn honked twice, proudly. I smirked at the truck, then patted my pockets. _Wallet; phone; keys; you aren't taking me unprepared this time!_ I thought, with a soft snicker to myself.

"Well, I'll be back. Don't go too far. I'm not gonna take long." I stated, hesitating, before I finally turned and walked away.

~X~X~

When I came back to the truck, I parked myself on the curb of the island, dividing the end of the parking lot from the road out of the plaza. The tires on the truck turned slightly, angling towards me.

"So…" I started, "What are you, really?" The truck was silent. I frowned, "Can you talk?" Still nothing. Then, the headlights flashed. I tilted my head. "One flash for yes and two for no? Then three for maybe or not sure?" One flash. Smirking, I rethought the questions I'd planned to ask while I was running around in the plaza.

"Are there more of you?" One flash. _So Optimus Prime is an alien, with a crew._

"Are you always a truck?" Two flashes._ So Optimus is an alien, with a crew, that turns into something else._

"Are you KITT or KARR?" After a long pause, one flash. "KITT?" Another single flash. I let out a breath I had been subconsciously holding, and murmured a simply, "Good."

"Hmm…. Are you supposed to run regular diesel fuel?" Two flashes. _Oh… Oops…_ "Is there something I can get to fix that? A different fuel type? An additive? Anything?" Three flashes. "Maybe? Or you aren't sure?" One flash. "Maybe? Do you know what it is?" One flash. Then the passenger side door popped open. _I guess that means I'm not driving anymore._ I thought, pouting slightly.

I gathered up the bag of stuff I'd bought, and climbed in. The door closed immediately, and the engine promptly started. I was startled slightly by the movement, as the shifter leapt into gear. It was weird to sit in the passenger seat, and the truck still drive. I stared at the empty seat for a few moments, then glanced up at the radio. The screen lit up and in bold letters, '_KEROSENE_'. I raised a brow.

"You need kerosene? But that's fuel for houses! It's illegal to use kerosene! Diesel fuel is taxed, but kerosene isn't! They put dyes in the kerosene so that they can see the difference! Do you realize how much I could be fined for that?" I tried to reason.

'_IT'S- CLEANER- AND RUNS- BETTER_' I buried my face in my hand, and grumbled, "I know it runs better. I've run it in my Dodge a few times… But you're already playing with judicial fire, and I am not gonna hold the matches! Or in this case, the gas can! I'm willing to bend the law, but when the DMV fines for something like that, they go for as high of a fine as they can get, because they don't know how long a truck has been running on kerosene, and they also don't know how much money they've lost. You may be alive, and you may be able to think and have an opinion, but you're still my truck."

The turbo on the engine kicked in, and whistled excessively. "And throwing a tantrum won't get you far." I stated with a snort. '_NOT A- TANTRUM_' I smirked. _Well maybe it really is alive… It must be, because I do believe I just got under its skin. Or is it body panels?_ I shrugged to myself, and looked back at the radio.

"Okay, big question. Male or female? Because one way or the other, you are one damned sexy truck!" I stated, smirking, and laughing at my own bravery.

The engine spluttered, right in the middle of shifting, and shuddered all kinds to catch its gear again. I laughed more, "Sorry! Didn't mean to be so blunt, but your paintjob was amazing, and is now, too!" Once the engine recovered, and the truck came back up to speed, the radio finally lit up, '_I DO NOT- KNOW HOW- TO REPLY_' A pause, and then,'_THANK- YOU- ..?_' I smiled, "That would be the correct response, I suppose. It was a compliment." I mumbled, "But there was a question in there, too."

A few awkward seconds until, '_MALE_'. _Well that was pretty straight forward._ I thought. '_HOWEVER-_' _Oh, of course there has to be a 'but' in there._ '_MY RACE- DOES NOT- HAVE SPE- CIFIC- GENDER- BOUNDAR- IES LIKE- YOUR- SPECIES_' I nodded. _Well this truck just keeps getting better and better. All kinds of quirks and quandaries. What next? Is it gonna turn into some giant, house-sized monster or something?_ I sighed and shook my head.

"So now what do we do?" I muttered. '_YOU- SLEEP- I'LL- DRIVE- WAKE YOU- WHEN WE- GET- THERE_' I nodded and slumped lower in my seat. '_YOU CAN- SLEEP IN- THE BACK- I WON'T- HURT YOU_' I raised a brow, and simply shrugged, folding my hands over my stomach and closing my eyes.

After a few minutes of sitting like that, I sat up and leaned against the window. Then, after another few minutes, I turned and put my back to the window, leaning against the door. Then after a few minutes, I sat back up, and pouted, glaring at the radio out of the corner of my eye. I was waiting for some kind of snarky response, but it didn't come.

I glanced over my shoulder, into the darkness of the shallow sleeper cab. It did look pretty comfy, and from the little bit I'd lay on it a few days ago, it very much was. I looked back and forth between the sleeper, the steering wheel, the radio, and the road.

'_I HAVE- THINGS- UNDER- CONTROL- …- YOU NEED- TO SLEEP- AND WE- WILL NOT- ARRIVE- FOR SOME- TIME YET_' I sighed, and followed it with a yawn. _What's the worst that could happen? Well… A lot of things, actually, but why listen to the voice of reason now?_ I nodded, and dragged myself out of the seat, dropping into the sleeper cab. Sprawled out, I was asleep nearly immediately.

~X~X~

The Prime let out a sigh that rattled his whole frame slightly. Not enough to wake his driver, but enough to ward off the unease that was settling into his systems. He was tired of staying in this tight, uncomfortable alternate mode. He had picked it for a number of reasons when he first got to Earth – it fit him in size; it fit him in personality; it was powerful; it was unique but not uncommon; and most importantly, it looked good. Okay, so it might have also been because it was the first thing he saw, but that was beside the point.

But right now, he found this form constricting and uncomfortable. He huffed, expelling the sigh from his stacks, and kicked his turbo on so he could pass an elderly couple driving no more than 50 miles per hour, despite the fact that they were on an Interstate Highway. The Peterbilt found himself impatient, and anxious to drop off this trailer, and unravel his limbs somewhere far from civilization. It had been at least two weeks since he'd transformed. _Too fraggin' long! Primus help me! I'll be all seized up before I get the chance to transform again!_

He shuddered again, then suddenly shot up on his springs. He could vaguely make out a Decepticon signature, drifting in and out of the edges of his scanning range. He had a strong suspicion, however, that it wasn't Barricade. While yes, the Saleen _had_ been making passes more than just occasionally, he was often being tailed by other police cars. Which could mean any number of things – he could be working with humans as an ally, which was unlikely but still plausible; or he could be running from them, because they had discovered that he wasn't actually a cop car. One way or the other, the 'Con hadn't once had a chance to go after the Prime, which the latter was all kinds of grateful for.

The 'Con on the edge of his scanner was sneaking closer. But luckily, he was still a good number of miles behind, and if he was keeping to highway speeds, it would be plenty long before he would catch up. Optimus was simply hoping to Primus that the 'Con didn't catch up until at least after he had dropped off the trailer. He had heard bits and pieces of conversation between his driver and her father about just how important this load was.

_Primus be slagged. I'm on my own, just like all of my bots… _Scanning the tiny frame of his driver, he thought, _Well, maybe I won't be alone anymore… Just maybe…_

* * *

><p>AN: Le Gasp! Plot twist? No. Not really... Hardcore filler chapter. I didn't update last Monday because I had no internet. Over the holidays, I got a new computer, but I still haven't transferred any of my old stuff onto this new computer that I'm using right now. I got a Dell 17R. It kicks aft. Just saying... Anyways, short chapter is hella short, but now that I'm using a computer that doesn't crash left and right, nor delete all of my stuff, I'll probably be able to write longer chapters that are better quality, and maybe put some thought into these chapters? Maybe... We'll see... Next chapter should be A. Nice and loooooooooong, and B. INTERESTING. That B. word is one that could not be used to describe these last six chapters. Or at least, not really... I reread the fic few nights ago and saw a lot of errors, a lot of inconsistencies, a lot of way over- or way under-descriptive parts, pieces, etc. These next few weeks will consist of me proofreading, editing, and all-around flaming my own story. :P Oh, and shout-outs to all my reviewers, my watchers, etc, and especially dragonlover91 and quasarsmom ;) Tonkios guys!  
>R&amp;R please! Flamers welcome, as long as you have something useful to say.<p> 


	7. Floridian Rain 1:14

Ego Vivo Seven – Floridian Rain

When I finally cracked my eyes open, it was light out again. Or should I say still..? How long had I slept? It felt like a few minutes, but the afternoon sun told me it had been hours since I had fallen asleep.

"Where are we..?" I mumbled, sitting up slowly, and stretching my back, with a yawn. Taking a deep breath, and then releasing it with a sigh, I dropped back down, staring at the ceiling of the cab. There was a matte navy blue fabric pulled into a quilted pattern. I started silently counting the squares, waiting for a reply.

_Oh… Wait…_ I snorted at my own forgetfulness, and sat up, glancing up into the front of the cab. The radio was black. I raised a brow, and twisted my legs out from the mess of blankets- Wait._ Blankets? I didn't bring any with me… And there weren't any back here when I lay down._ I shook my head. Maybe I just didn't see them..? I dragged myself out from the tangle, and up into the driver seat. The radio was still dark.

I reached out and, hesitantly, wrapped my fingers around the steering wheel. The rigidity vanished, and I promptly took a firm hold on the wheel. The truck seemed more than willing to let me drive. "Tired?" I asked.

'_VERY- MUCH SO- I APOLO- GIZE BUT- I AM UN- ABLE TO- HOLD MY- CONCIOU- SNESS- FOR VERY- LONG_' I raised a brow slightly. '_IT IS AN- EXTREME- DRAIN- WITHOUT- THE PROP- ER FUELS- AND THIS- DRIVE HAS- BEEN ESP- ECIALLY- DRAINING- SO NOW I- WILL REL- INQUISH- DRIVING- TO YOU_' I nodded, and after a moment of contemplation, gently patted the dashboard.

"Don't worry, Optimus Prime. I've driven more than one truck in my time. You're not the first, and won't be the last. I've got it." I murmured. The engine revved softly, and the radio flashed a simple '_THANK- YOU_' and flicked off. And suddenly the cab became eerily empty and quiet. Or at least, it sure felt it. The lights on the dashboard dimmed and when the toes of my boots touched the gas and the clutch pedals, my hand gently wrapping around the shifter, the truck relaxed and fell once more under my power.

~X~X~

It was a little less than an hour after I had taken control of the truck, clouds started rolling in. The sky grew darker and darker on one side, while the sun fought back the suffocation on the other. Glaring at the dark grey clouds, I nudged the switch for the windows, cracking my side open. Then, after checking my mirrors, I reached across the cab to the passenger side, and grabbed the bag I had bought… Well… Whenever it was that I had bought its contents, before I fell asleep. Digging through it, I pulled out an inch-by-inch-by-three-inch box, and glanced at it, steadying the wheel with one hand, and trying to peel the plastic coating off the box with my teeth. Finally catching an edge, and ripping the plastic wrapper off, I smacked the bottom of it against my leg to shuffle the contents to sit evenly at the bottom.

A sharp but distant crackle sounded in the direction of the dark clouds. I flicked a glance in my mirrors and noted the open sky behind me. These clouds were sweeping up from the left, to my front. That meant they were coming straight off the ocean. I grimaced. _Swampland salt water rain versus New England blue blood._ I glared at the clouds, and tucking the hand-sized box under my leg, I pushed for another gear, which the truck sluggishly responded to. Pulling the box back out and cracking it open, I glanced at the contents. Four rows of five, evenly arranged rolls. Frowning, I carefully dug one out, trying not to rip the paper casing on any of the twenty. _Haven't done this crap since college. Thanks a lot, you pain in my ass truck!_ I thought, digging through the bag again, and pulling out a lighter. I glared at the lighter in my hand and the cigarette between my fingers. _You're halfway there. What's another seven minutes on top of the ten years this truck has burned off your lifespan?_ I snorted, and took the latter between my lips, lighting it and immediately feeling guilty and relieved and the same time. _Sorry Dad. I was doing good, but after three years, I dropped the ball, because that truck I bought turned out to be some living alien _thing_ and I just need to blow off some steam. Or in this case, smoke._ Exhaling towards the partway opened window, I flicked the tip of the cigarette out, then held it in the corner of my mouth. Snatching directions off the dashboard, I watched the highway signs that were posted, marking the fact that we were very much close to our destination. Peeking at the radio, I recalled that it had been black since the truck had decided I was allowed to drive. I tugged my phone out of my pocket, and clicked the unlock button on the side, making the screen light up. The time on it confirmed that we were indeed getting close to our time limit. I grimaced at the thought, but another rumble in the direction of the dark side of the sky snapped me back to the task at hand. I had just over three hours to get from just outside of Orlando, to Miami. Grimacing again, I flicked my cigarette against the edge of the window, and shoved it back into the corner of my mouth.

Looking at the clouds ahead, I noted them racing across the atmosphere, blocking out the sun. And a few minutes later, the entire sky had become dark, and the rumbles of thunder had moved in with them. And half an hour later, it started raining. Flicking the wipers on, I frowned. The wipers didn't move; just sat there at the bottom of the windshield, as though I hadn't switched them on. Flickering the switch on and off a few times, I grumbled to myself about the useless things. For an alien truck, this thing wasn't proving very cooperative. Glancing at the radio, I noted the backlight on.

"You awake, Optimus Prime?" I murmured, flicking my cigarette out the window. The radio was lit up only at the edges, but then after a few minutes, a simple '_YES_' flashed across the screen.

"Did you have a good nap?"

'_NO- I WAS- EXPECT- ING MORE- THAN TWO- HOURS OF- REST_' A long pause, and then the words continued, '_I WAS- HOPING- I WOULD- AWAKEN- AFTER YOU- HAD REAC- HED YOUR- DESTINA- TION_' I nodded, silently.

"You could've slept longer. I was fine with driving." '_THE RAIN- WOKE ME_'

"Oh… Sorry…" I mumbled, feeling the wheel slip away, and take its own direction.

'_NOT YOUR- FAULT_' I shrugged, and mumbled a soft, "I guess…"

'_WE ARE- STILL ON- TRACK TO- MIAMI?_' I nodded.

"Yeah… We have two, maybe two and a half hours to go, and at most, two hours to get there. And not only are we heading into Miami, which is crowded all year long, but especially because it's summertime, which means crowding for the beaches, but by the time we get there, it'll be rush hour. So pretty much, what it all comes down to is pure highway-driving hell. If you feel that confident about driving in the middle of urban swamp, go ahead, but if not, I'll drive." I offered.

'_I WILL- BE OKAY_' Nodding yet again, I released the steering wheel entirely, and returned to leaning against the window as I had for most of the time that the truck drove.

After a few minutes of silent driving, I muttered "Well this is fun." under my breath. The truck shifted lanes, eliciting no response. Sighing, I continued, "Hopefully the rain will let up by the time we get there. I really don't want to have to unhitch while it's pouring like this." I stated, as the rain hitting the windows became progressively heavier.

'_INDEED- THE RAIN- IS ALSO- VERY COLD_' I snorted, "No kidding, especially after all that-" I stopped. Maybe this truck really was _real_. I still couldn't quite believe it. Couldn't imagine it being real. In the back of my mind, it still didn't make sense that this truck could actually have a mind of its own. But at the same time, it almost made too much sense.

_Well then let's just say it really is alive, then, hmm? This poor truck has to haul its ass all over the place because you say so, suffering in the pouring rain, or the smoldering heat, while you sit on the inside, in a perfectly controlled climate._ I huffed at my other mental half, crossing my arms.

_I never said he/it had to do anything! It could've always just stayed back at the shop; locked up and stayed put until it rusted._ I argued with myself.

_HE was only trying to do the right thing, and follow instructions. Well, unspoken instructions, but still! He was trying to do right by you, to make up for the wrongs. And stop calling him an it! We both know he's a HE!_ I froze. Was I really having a fight with myself like this?

_Yes, you are. Now shut up and pretend to drive. You're gonna scare him._ I raised a brow at that thought, and shook my head. This truck really _was_ driving me to insanity. Sinking into the seat slightly, I flicked a glance at the dashboard, in the direction of the heat panel, below the radio. The AC was turned on low. I stared at it for a few minutes. I hadn't turned it on, and it hadn't been on when I was smoking, so the truck must've at some point. Most likely when it- err _he_ woke up. Finally, I reached out and flicked it off.

'_SOME- THING- WRONG?_' I shook my head.

"No, I'm fine. Just a little chilly." I lied.

'_WANT THE- HEAT ON?_' I shook my head again.

"No. The AC was just a little too much." _And my conscience is feeling mighty guilty and I feel bad because even though you're my truck, you're my babysitter and-_ I buried my face in my hands for a few moments, then looked up.

"Optimus Prime?" I murmured.

'_YES- DIANE- LAVELLE-?_'

"Thanks… For, yknow, driving… And stuff…" I tried, struggling to explain my thanks.

'_YOU ARE- WELCOME_' At that, I flashed a weak smile. Even though I had thanked him, it still felt like I should do more for him than that. Flicking a look at the small box still tucked under my leg, I pulled it out, staring at it and contemplating. _Fourteen minutes, now? No biggie. What's a quarter of an hour? What're you really gonna miss that could possibly be so important, fifteen minutes after you die?_ I made a face, moving my stare out the window, at a sleek black limo with beyond-legally-tinted windows.

Finally decided, I nudged the window open a few inches, listening to the truck's turbo whistling. Then, after another minute or so, I pulled out another cigarette, throwing the box up on the dash, and lit it. The turbo suddenly cut out, and the truck seemed to scoff offensively. I raised a glare to the radio, but it was dark again. _Didn't think so._ Inhaling the menthol deeply, I flicked the ashes out the window, and put it in the corner of my mouth again, sitting up, and grabbing my bag off the floor. I dug the Gatorade that was surprisingly still cold out, and set it between my legs. Flicking my cigarette against the window again, I yelped when the window suddenly shot up, snipping it in half. I gawked at the stump of paper and filter. There was minimal burnable cigarette left. I held it close to my face, inspecting the cut. _Cleaner than a laser cutter. Shit._ Looking at the radio, I glared vehemently, and sunk back into my seat, and muttered a simple, "Jerk."

At that, the truck seemed to laugh at me, the Jake brake flicking on and off repeatedly. I growled, and opened my Gatorade, sipping it slowly. _I should _sooo_ dump this all over your interior._ I thought, with a snicker. _Red and blue leather interior meets Lemon-lime Gatorade. Truck driver wins._ Raising a brow, I held the bottle over the floor, and started tipping it, teasingly slow, watching the radio as I did so.

'_IF YOU- DON'T- CLOSE- THAT I- WILL- DUMP YOU- ON THE- SIDE OF- THE ROAD_' My eyes widened and I jerked the bottle back close to me, twisting the cover on tight. Sinking into the seat, I pouted.

X~X~X

The next two hours dragged on, and then, suddenly, we were in the heart of Miami. "We have to go to the south side of Miami. There's a construction site about 3 blocks from the beach. Very busy area, very slow traffic, and a crapload of teenagers driving like they live in Boston – stupidly. And we have-" I pulled out my phone, "At most, right now, fifteen minutes. And if we surpass that fifteen minutes by, like, three seconds, I'm gonna lose a helluva lot of money. There really wasn't much of a time allowance. Maybe I should've driven like Dad." I grumbled, watching mirrors, and every now and then, voicing comments about people on the sidewalks, or other cars near us, or stores that looked interesting.

"I'm surprised there are so many people outside, though, considering the rain. Back home, if it's thundering, you're playing in the rain. If it's just raining, you're pulling out the shovels and snowplows, just in case." I muttered with a soft laugh. "Living in New England can be a bitch. Y'know what I mean?" '_INDEED- I HAVE- SPENT- ONE YEAR- IN THE- REGION- AND THE- WEATHER- IS LESS- THAN FOR- GIVING_' I snorted, and smirked. "Can't handle eighteen inches?" There was a long, somewhat awkward pause, and then, '_NO- CHAINS_' _Oh…_ I blushed, feeling somewhat bad. I was betting dollars to donuts that Optimus Prime had gotten stuck more often than not when it snowed. If the snow started anywhere after 4 or 5PM, it was generally left until 3 or 4AM of the next morning to be plowed, unless it was really bad. And it was also usually more civilians than public works, depending on where you went.

'_WE ARE- ALMOST- AT OUT- DESTIN- ATION_' I looked up, and realized that we were indeed almost to the site. It was directly ahead of us, a block, maybe two, from where we were stopped at a red light.

I sighed, relieved, "Good. It's about time. This has undoubtedly been the long two days of my life, even if I slept for like half of the trip from Detroit." I snickered.

'_AGREED- I AM JUST- ABOUT- READY- TO GET OUT- FROM- UNDER- THIS PRI- MUS SLAG- GED TRAI- LER_' I raised a brow. _Primus-slagged..? What in the name of hell does that mean?_ Shaking it off, I nodded, and rested my hands on the steering wheel, pretending as if I was actually driving, and we slowly turned into the massive dirt lot that was our drop-off.

"Well,-" I started, "I'll be back in a few." I said, opening the door and jumping out.

X~X~X

"Didja miss me?" I exclaimed, as we pulled onto the highway. '_PARDON?_' I snickered. "I said, didja miss me? Y'know, while we were unloading!" The radio went blank. My shoulders dropped, and I slapped a hand to my forehead.

"It was a joke. You know? A joke? Haha? Laugh? Sarcasm? Anything?"

'_. . . . . .- SURE?_' I snorted and shook my head.

"Ahh boy… What am I gonna do with you, Optimus Prime?"

'_YOU DONT- HAVE TO- KEEP- CALLING- ME BY MY- FULL NAM- E IF YOU- WANT- MY TEAM- REFERS- TO ME AS- OPTIMUS- OR PRIME- OR SIR_' I raised a brow.

"I ain't calling you sir." I said, laughing softly. "Way too formal. Too formal and too awkward sounding. I don't think I've ever called _anyone_ by 'sir'…"

'_WHATEVER- YOU PRE- FER_' I nodded. _Shall we bump the 14 minutes up to 21, today? I think yes._ I checked my pockets, then looked on the floor of the truck, shuffling around in the bag a bit. There was the other box that I hadn't opened yet, but not the first one. _What the hell did I do with those things?_ Then I remembered, _Well duhh. You chucked 'em up on the dash!_ I sat up, and leaned forward, peeking over the high edge of the massive dashboard. But there was only paperwork, the ink already faded from sitting up there for what, two weeks now? I shuffled the papers around, looking under them, between them, then chucking them back. Glaring down the other end, I still didn't spot the small box.

"Any idea where my smokes are?" I muttered, partially to myself, partially to the truck. Sitting back, the radio was blank for an awkwardly long time, until it finally flashed a fast, '_I DUNNO_' I raised a brow.

"You don't know?"

'_CORRECT_'

"But you're the truck. How could you not know where they went? I chucked 'em up on the dashboard earlier, right before you chopped my other one in half with your window!"

'_I DUNNO_' flashed quickly again. I tilted my head, and glared at the radio. I knew that tone- err, well, that figurative tone. Leaning forward again, I bumped my forehead against the windshield, staring down into the tight corner between the glass and the dashboard. Then I spotted it. The white box, detailed with a thin, marbled green and gold stripe down its length, hiding beneath the slats of one of the vents.

"YOU ATE MY CIGARETTES?" I shouted, gawking at the tiny box which was unreachable through the thin spaces of the heater vent. "How the _HELL_ did you get that tiny box in between those teeny-tiny lines?" I exclaimed, throwing myself back against the seat.

'_I DID NOT- EAT THEM_' I raised a brow, glaring vehemently at the blue screen, '_I HID- THEM- THERE- IS A BIG- DIFFER- ENCE_' I snarled at the radio, and shouted, "I needed those, you jerk! Those are expensive!" I lifted a boot, and kicked the radio. The screen cracked from the center outwards.

Suddenly, the whole truck jerked as the gears slipped, and tires screeching as the brakes applied themselves. As soon as the truck came to a stop, having pulled into the shoulder, the seat belt released, the door flung open, and I was suddenly flying out of my seat. I yelped, as I rolled across the pavement, just slightly more than an arm's length away from the rumble strip on the edge of the breakdown lane. As soon as my back stopped screaming in protest, I sat up. The door slammed shut and undoubtedly locked itself. _You have _got_ to be kidding me._ Jumping to my feet, I glared at the truck. "What the hell was that for?" There was no response. _Sonuva- I can't even find out what's wrong now, because for one, I'm locked out of the truck. Two, the only way to communicate with it is by the radio, which is inside the truck, for starts, and now broken. Damnit!_ I snarled at the truck, baring my teeth and growling. It growled back and then shut off. The engine died, and the lights progressively flicked off. _Oh, he better not be taking another nap! I swear to God, I will kick this truck's ass across the country if he's gonna take a nap and lock me out!_ I watched as all the lights died out, and folded my arms glaring.

X~X~X

Fifteen minutes later, I sat myself on one of the steps, and sighed, resting my head in my hands. Half an hour after that, it started raining. Another fifteen minutes, and the rain became a torrential downpour, thunder and lightning and all.

I jumped back against the truck when a deafening crackle of thunder erupted from almost directly over my head. I ducked my head down, and tried to curl in on myself, pulling one leg up, onto the step. Something nudged against my shoulder, and when I looked up, I noted the door of the truck, sitting open a smidge. Standing up, and taking a step back, the door opened the rest of the way. "What? You gonna play nice now?" The strip of blue lights under the door flashed once. Staring at the truck, I considered for all of half a second before practically leaping into the truck. The door shut immediately, and the heat turned on, full blast. As always, the truck put itself in gear, and pulled back onto the highway. I promptly shed my sopping wet sweatshirt, dropping it on the floor, and kicking my boots off so I could pull my feet up on the seat. The truck shivered in sync with my own shivers, and the seat heated up, warming me even more.

Looking up at the radio, I noted all the breakage in the screen, and the crack that ran horizontally, across the internals of it. I reached out and carefully unclipped it from the whole of it, turning the screen over in my hands, inspecting it from all angles, until I finally looked at the dash, and murmured a simple, "Sorry…" Trailing my fingers along the broken screen, I suddenly thought of a question. Optimus had the radio, but yet, he never actually spoke. Could he talk? Or was he only able to talk with the radio screen? _Good idea, stupid! Let's ask the radio a question! You just broke it, but let's ask it a question anyways!_ Sighing, I put the radio face up on the dash, and rested my hands on the bottom of the steering wheel. "I'm messin' things up again… I seem to have a habit of trampling friendships to get what I want." I muttered, resting my head in the center of the wheel. After a few moments, the seatbelt slid across my frame, and I sat up, sliding one arm into it, and sinking into the seat.

The seatbelt tightened, pulling me into the seat, so tight it was almost hard to breathe. I was about to speak up, when suddenly, we weren't moving forward anymore. We were skidding sideways, and then rolling, and up became down, and swamp became sky and vice versa. And by the time we had stopped rolling, all of the windows in the truck were shattered, and my consciousness had slipped away.

* * *

><p>AN: Wow... Sorry guys... Long overdue chapter is long overdue. My plan was to post this last night, and just move all of my updating to Friday, but then last night, I posted Mudslide, and my internet konked out, so I couldn't post this chapter. And then this morning, I got up, reread this chapter, and decided I hated it. So I went ahead and pulled this shit outta nowhere. Well, the only part I really had planned was Diane y cigarettes vs. Optimus y truck mode. ...failspanishisfail..? xD I'm only in Spanish I and I don't really pay attention and- What? ADD much? Yes! :D So yeah... Hopefully more reviews this week? PLEAAAAASSSSEEEE? oAo I would love yew forever! Haha... Thank you my lovelies who did review -all 3 of ya ._.' -

Read and Review. Flame if ya want, but say something useful. And to my fourteen or so watchers. Review damnit! I know yer watchin' dis! o_o


	8. Is that MY truck! 1:23

Chapter Eight

When I opened my eyes, the rain had halted its assault, and only ever-darkening clouds were left in its wake, crawling lazily across the sky. It must've been getting late, guessing by the fact that the clouds, themselves, were thin, while- _Wait. Why can I see the sky? Shouldn't I be- _Optimus! I jerked up, and immediately regretted it. My back and head ached, and my left leg burned with a searing throb. Slumping back to lean on one elbow, I held my head with the other hand and looked around, dazed.

On all sides, I was surrounded by thick, lush forest of the most beautiful shades of green. In fact, every color around me was explosively strong, like all those bright colors that come in a painting starter kit. But maybe that was the brain-fog talking… Looking down at my leg, I started at the sight of the maroon-red seeping into m jeans and trickling out of a gash that was easily four inches long. So _that's_ where the burning was coming from. I grimaced, and dropped my head back.

_How did I end up here? Why am I in the middle of the woods? Where's Optimus? Is this why he said he was only sorta-kinda a machine? Hell, where am I? Why did I not wonder where I was _first_? What the hell is wrong with me? Where did I get this huge-ass tear in my leg? Where am I again? Oh God! What the hell is wrong with me? STOP REPEATING QUESTIONS!_ I slapped a hand to my forehead. _I'm never gonna get anywhere, if I keep this up._

Sitting up, slowly this time, I looked around more, noting a trail of destruction that tore through the foliage, a small distance away from where I was sitting. I was laying on an angle, on a hill, an embankment of some kind. Pushing myself up slowly, first to my knees, then putting my throbbing left leg forward to stand, I immediately collapsed with a whimper. My leg burned and ached and flat-out hurt like hell. Looking for some kind of leverage, I dragged myself over to a tree, and hauled myself up, with the help of a low-slung branch. Shoving myself forward, towards the path of devastation, I stumbled along through the swampy forest.

In the distant reaches of the direction I was headed, I could faintly make out the sounds of more trees crackling and then dull thumps as they crashed to the ground. Flicking a glance behind me, I could barely hear the highway, if I strained myself to hear. Or maybe that was just my heart pounding in my ears… _But who knows? Right?_ Shaking my head, I rubbed my face with one hand, smearing grimy rain water and sap across my cheek.

Gaining momentum, I threw myself at a tree to halt the spinning in my head that had gained speed in tandem with my movement. When the blender in my brain finally settled, I continued along the line of wreckage. Whatever the hell had barreled through the forestry had gone in a haphazard path, zigzagging back and forth like a ball bearing bouncing around in a pinball machine. There was a thunderous _CRASH!_ not far from where I was, and let me tell _you_, it sure as hell put some pep in my step. Or maybe it was fear, fronted with adrenaline, backed by a masochistic excitement. Either way, I limp-jogged my ass as fast as I could without blacking out, until I reached a massive clearing. When I say clearing, what I really mean is an opening that had the appearance of a bombing range – trees had been uprooted and thrown in all directions; there were others that had been splintered, as though they'd been through a tornado. I gawked at the extent of the damage. _What in the world could've caused this?_

My answer came in the form of two monstrous _things_ tumbling across the opening, crashing into each other repeatedly, and, dare I say fighting? The shape of each was vaguely human, if you squinted and tilted your head to the side, so to speak. One was a fluorescent highlighter yellow-green with red lights in its head, and the other was a mish-mash of bright red, cobalt blue, and chrome, with blue lights instead of red. Backing up a few steps, I yelped when I fell backwards, my left leg caving out on me. For a moment, I thought it would turn into a movie scene, where they would freeze, look up, and decide I was the greater enemy. Luckily, it didn't. But for some reason, I realized I'd been wishing, in some deep corner of my mind, that they _had_ stopped for a moment.

I found myself trying to decide who I wanted to win. I didn't know which thing was the good guy, or if there even _was_ a good or bad guy or especially whether or not they even were _guys_, which startled me. _What _are_ these things? What the hell government decided they were going to create giant Gundam things for real? Did they _think _about the kind of damage these things were causing? _

Pushing myself back against a tree, so I could get up, the mish-mashed colored one looked in my direction. And in that single moment, every hair on my arms and the back of my neck stood on end, chilled. The world seemed to slow down in that half a moment that it looked at me, and I found myself intrigued by it. The red and blue paint that clashed in all the right ways; the long, lean body; the bright blue eyes – _DON'T LIKE RED. But what about the paint? You're a red and blue truck! Ya have been since I bought you! THAT'S DIFFERENT. I HAVE ALWAYS BEEN RED AND BLUE._ – My eyes widened at the thought of the unusual reply that had previously crossed the radio of my truck. Could this possibly be my truck? This monstrous machine- _So what are you? A haunted truck? NO. A robot? SORT OF. A machine? YES AND NO._ My jaw dropped in realization. This- this- thing!- It _had_ to be my truck. There was absolutely no way it _wasn't_ my truck! The same colors on its paint, the same blue lights scattered about its frame, the same immaculate chrome, the same everything in terms of stuff that could be identified with a truck. My stomach twisted into knots and my limbs turned to jelly and I slumped against the tree that I had just used to stand up.

_Holy shit. Holy _shit._ Holy SHIT!_ I clamped a hand over my mouth and watched the two machines battle it out. _I just figured out that my truck is a huge-ass war machine, and yet I'm having flashbacks to being a kid, watching BattleBots and Robot Wars._ Closing my eyes, I pulled my legs up to my chest and wrapped my arms around my calves. _Those shows have been discontinued for how long already..? Ugh, who cares! Watch these fuggers fight! No, wait! Run like hell! Get away from them before they step on you! But then again, this is kinda entertaining. No! No it's not! It's scary as fuck! But it really shouldn't be! But-_ I jumped back as the red and blue one – _dare I call it _my_ red and blue one?_ – revealed a glowing blade that was as long as its forearm, and leapt forward, burying the red-hot metal into the yellow one's chest. Then, with practiced skill, the blade was torn out on an angle, ripping the yellow's torso open in the process, and suddenly jammed back into its neck. With a twist, the yellow one's head popped off as though it were the graphite tip of a pencil. My eyes widened to the max, and my jaw hit the ground, horrified. A whimper escaped me. The winner of the fight, the red and blue monster, _my truck_, jerked its head in my direction, staring at me with those haunting blue eyes again.

I wanted desperately to run, but fear – and pain – froze me to the base of the tree. The red and blue machine pulled its arm back, removing its massive blade from the beheaded body of its counterpart, shaking said weapon off, ad turning fully towards me. _You're next!_ I thought to myself. Finally, my limbs responded, and I leapt up, only to trip and land face first in the dirt. Forcing myself back up, I nearly leapt out of my skin at the massive silver – _was it a hand..?_ – that hovered next to me, palm up. I flinched, when it angled lower. _What does this thing want from me?_ I suddenly flashed to babysitting my niece and nephews, who had loved catching bugs and showing them to me. _Am I- am I the bug- to this machine?_ Staring at the hand, I followed with my eyes, up the arm and across the chest to its face. Everything about this thing said 'deer in the headlights' , though I'm sure the look I was giving it said the same. Staring at the lights in its head, that I could only guess to be its eyes, if all of my previous guesses about its anatomy were correct, it simply blinked. _Wait. It blinked? Why the hell would it need to blink? Why do I care why it does or doesn't need to blink? Dear lord, I'm ADD lately!_ Blinking back, I focused on the hand stretched out in front of me.

I looked back up at its eyes, then back down, and back up again, before finally uttering, "O-Optimus?" The thing bobbed its head once. No, not _it. He_. "Optimus Prime." I repeated. It-slash-he nodded again, and nudged his hand towards me. I fixed his hand with a contemplative stare, then reached out, and grabbed the tip of one of his fingers. He tugged me to my feet, but my legs immediately caved, and I dropped face first into his hand, with a soft yelp. And immediately after that, I was smacked with a wave of motion sickness and vertigo at the same time, as his hand moved away from the ground, fingers curling around me. I clamped my arms around his thumb, and latched myself onto his limb, holding on for dear life. When I finally gained the guts to pull my face away from his hand, and look up, not so daring as to look down, I looked him straight in the face and said, "Well this sure does make things interesting."

X~X~X

Six or so hours later, we were parked in another truck stop. Optimus had parked facing a bench, which I had promptly taken up residence upon. He didn't talk, couldn't, so I didn't either. I just sat there and stared at the grill, contemplating my next move. Did I go and buy more cigarettes, and risk having them eaten again, or did I do something useful like take a shower? Flicking a glare down at my half-ass-bandaged leg, I crossed the latter out. _Always wait at least 24 hours before exposing a wound to running water._ I thought to myself. _Well, here I come, cigarettes…_

Standing up, I put my hands on my hips, "I'll be back in a few, 'kay? Don't go far." The truck was silent. I smirked silently, and headed in the direction of the convenience store portion of the truck stop. Too bad my truck would yet again pull a Houdini when I returned.

X~X~X

Throwing myself onto the bench, I huffed in aggravation. Optimus was gone. Where? It was anybody's guess. Lucky me, though, I at least had my phone this time. Looking at the slim box in my hands, I immediately cracked into the contents. An hour passed. I smoked a cigarette. Another hour passed. I smoked another cigarette. At two and a half hours, give or take, I was approached by a police officer. I was leaning forward on my knees, staring at the ground, when the perfectly-shined toes of his boots came into view. I looked –or rather, glared- up at him. "Somethin' wrong?" I grumbled, taking in the ginger-blonde hair and green eyes, paper white teeth and pale skin. He raised a brow, taking in my own features, and then glancing somewhat wide-eyed at the wound on my leg that had bled through the gauze, before finally replying, "Err, we received a report of a disturbance by a woman sitting on a bench, possibly a drug addict or a prostitute… I'm assuming that's you?" He said matter-of-factly.

I fixed him with a burn-in-hell glare. "Depends. Are you a real cop or a stripper dressed up as a cop?" At that, the officer's eyes widened, startled.

"Pardon?" I smirked. "Exactly. How the _hell_ do I look like a prostitute or a drug addict? Because my hair is a bit messed up, and my clothes look like hell? Because I'm sitting on a bench and I don't have a vehicle? Or because I'm sitting on a bench, smoking? I'm just sitting here! What's the big deal?"

Still startled, the officer pulled a handheld notepad out of his breastpocket, and flipped it open. "Erhm, well, we had a group make a report to us that was a bit concerning; that there was a woman who looked to be in a less-than-well condition, who'd been here for a few hours. They, ahh, identified you..?" He suddenly sounded unsure of himself, which made me smirk to myself.

"Let me guess. It's the snobby, stuck-up parents on the other side of the parking lot, talking with your partner, Ron, who was really hoping that he'd get the chance to talk to me, instead of the family." His eyes nearly fell out of his head. "By the way, your name fits you. You definitely look like a Dan to me." I smirked. "How-?" Leaning back against the bench, I folded my arms. "Photographic memory. Well, selective photographic memory. You two walked by me earlier. Fifteen minutes, at most? You were talking about your wife, though guessing by the fact that you don't have your ring on your finger, things are either really tough, you're trying to get hit on, or you're afraid to lose it. Your partner was talking about his lack of girlfriends, and about how he's very antisocial, outside of talking to you." My smirk grew, and I stood up. "Well, you have a good day, officer. My ride is here." I stated, walking quickly towards the flaming Peterbilt that had pulled into the parking lot.

X~X~X

"So why did you ditch me this time?" I grumbled, settling into the driver's seat, and folding my arms. Then thunked my head back into the seat when I remembered that the radio was still broken and that until I replaced it _again_, I wouldn't get any responses from the truck. Hissing under my breath, I looked up at the radio. There were still spider web cracks splayed out from the center of the screen, but they seemed smaller. I raised a brow, but continued pouting. "Yknow, it's pretty boring driving alone, but even more boring when you get use to talking to somebody and they become mute." I muttered. The truck revved in response, then changed lanes. "Just so you know," I continued, "I'm gonna have a bunch of questions for you when I finally put another new radio in." Another rev. I smiled. "As long as we're clear on that."

* * *

><p>AN: So... This is late... Again... ._. plzdonteatme... I transferred all of my stuff onto a USB then transferred it onto a different USB and deleted everything on my laptop cuz all that shit was clogging it up and making it drag aft. Oops... Then on Friday, I had a total breakdown. I started crying in the middle of my last class, nearly forced myself to black out, and... yeah... :I So... Sorry 'bout dat, gais... But I'm alive nao -sorta kinda- and... Yeah... Filler chapter is filler, but we've finally reached the part that everybody's been waiting for. My plan is to chill out over February vaca -sofaraway oAo- and go through every chapter, edit all of dis garbage, and make itworth reading! :D lmao, so... yeah... Update may or may not be late this coming Friday, as well... ._.'


	9. Chick vs Truck (see author's note) 11:13

Ego Vivo Chapter One

"How much?" "W-what?" "How much? How much do you want for the truck?" A thumb gestured over the shoulder towards the nightmare that had been parked on his lot for 3 or 4 intermittent months. "Y-you want to b-buy it? Really?" He was getting excited now. This woman was probably gullible, and stupid as shit, as with most drivers who stumbled upon the used-truck lot. "Err yeah… That's kinda why I'm asking. How much do you want?" "Well, ahh, don't you want to test-drive it first? Take a look?" She raised a brow, "Nobody ever taught you how to wheel and deal, did they?" "'Scuse me?" "Nothing!" She replied hurriedly. _Better be nothing! _He thought.

"It's a good looking truck… The paint is ugly, but I mean, I would think a truck like that would be well taken care of. I should guess that you're a reputable dealer, are you not?" She asked with a snicker. "Oh, absolutely! The best in the area-" _The standards must be lower than I thought around here._ "-and some of the best prices for only the best trucks!" He was lying through his teeth and they both knew it. She simply stared at him, unconvinced, and turned back towards the truck. "Right… Well, how 'bout I go get you some keys and we can take a ride in 'er." She ignored the hinted double meaning that was implied by the suggestive tone in his voice.

_Men._ She huffed mentally. _Hnh. It _is_ a good looking truck… Why hasn't somebody jumped on it?_ That part was the dealer's little secret, though it was quite an elephant in the room, amongst the 6 or 7 guys who'd purchased it previous to now. They came along, bought it, and within a week, two at most, returned, frantically demanding a refund of their money. It was possessed, many claimed. It had jerked the wheel out of their hands, driven itself where it pleased, disappeared from truck stops on numerous counts, and left their loads in unknown parking, among other things. Quite plainly, it was a problem child. The dealer, Rick, was ready to take the lot lizard of a truck to a crusher and rid himself of what was, without a doubt, the most problematic vehicle he'd ever purchased at a public auction.

"Here are your keys." He stated, holding out a ring with two keys, and a small emblem, with a weird, box-face logo on one side, and the classic Peterbilt on the other. She took them promptly, and moved towards the truck.

~X~X~

Something about this truck was intriguing… Maybe it was just the paintjob, (or rather, what was left of it) or the general rarity of this style of the model, or the fact that it was different from the rest in the gravel parking lot. I couldn't stop coming back to it. I'd circled the lot at least twice, looking at all the trucks, but I always came back to this one. It was so eerie, the way it looked. The paint was dulled, and chipping and flaking in many spots, and the overcast weather, and looming rain clouds overhead made it that much duller seeming. But it was like I could imagine its glory days, glowing flames licking off the hood and across the body, hauling ass from place to place, like a deep blue Smokey and the Bandit rig, minus the famous country singer and his lazy pup behind the wheel. All I knew now, was that I wanted to get in the truck and drive like Bandit himself. But I didn't. I wasn't about to get in with this creep, Rick, the owner of the so-called dealership.

In reality, the place was a bone yard, a final resting place for a bunch of rigs that would likely never leave the lot, except it they were destined for a crusher or a blowtorch. I twirled the keys on my finger, as I approached the truck, slowly, as though I was approaching a skittish horse. I flicked a glance back at Rick, then hesitantly unlocked the truck. It wouldn't be the first time I found something seriously friggin' weird in a truck. The topper on my list, so far, was dead animals - squirrels, raccoons, a skunk, a few rabbits, all of them hanging inside the truck. But what about this truck? The door handle popped and I opened the door, taking a large step back, just in case.

Amazingly, it was normal. Clean, in fact, despite the look of disrepair on the outside. Leather seats that matched the paint, a dark wood on the dash and immaculate chrome detailing. I hauled myself up into the driver's seat, and immediately sighed. Soft seat was damned soft. I could've fallen asleep on the spot if it weren't for the oh-so-creepy owner. "Does she start?" "Huh?" Was this guy deaf, or what? "The truck. Does. It. Start?" "Oh! Err, yeah, I think so…" I rested one hand on the steering wheel, and threw the key in the ignition. "Well… Here goes nothing, I guess." One foot in the clutch, the other hovering above the gas. First try, barely a choking cough. The second, same. The third, with a few revs of the gas, and I was met with the thunderous growl that I'd become so familiar with, with these trucks. I grinned wide, and patted the wheel and gave the dash a good look. All the gauges leapt to life, lit up, and the needles rose to their appropriate places. I smirked. I flicked over to the radio. No power. Huh… I tapped the tiny screen, played with the volume dial with no luck, squinting at it, in search of a power button. "The radio don't work." "What?" I mentally face palmed. Was this guy paying any attention? "The radio doesn't work. There's no power button, and it ain't lit up." "Oh… Huh…" I snorted. "Well, ahh, wanna take 'er for a drive?" I grimaced slightly. I really didn't trust this guy, and honestly, I just wanted to take the friggin' thing home already! "Nahh… I wanna talk numbers." "Well then… How 'bout we head on in, and talk it over? Get out of the cold?" "Sure." I mumble, killing the engine and climbing out, handing the keys back.

~X~X~

The trailer that served as the office was small, tight, and very cramped. Dropped ceilings, few windows, and numerous filing cabinets made the small space claustrophobically tight. There was a desk immediately in front of the door, and cheap plastic chairs against the same wall as the door. There was an older woman seated behind the desk, who looked up from a book, to stare at me, her expression screaming boredom, like she would've been thrilled to watch paint dry or grass grow. I nodded silently to her, and followed Rick around her desk, into what seemed to be his office, though it was tight enough to call a walk-in closet, instead of an actual room. He rounded a metal desk, that reminded me of my school years. _A teacher's desk. _That's_ original… Not._ He gestured to a chair across from the desk, as he sat in one behind it. "Coffee?" He offered. Maybe he wasn't quite as much of a sleaze ball as I thought… I shrugged, "Ehh, sure." "It's out there." He stated, thumbing back out towards the rest of the office. "Oh." Jerk. I left for a brief moment to retrieve the life-fluid and returned quickly with a mighty cheap foam cup in hand.

"So what are _you_ thinking? What price range?" I started for him. "Well… Ahh… Hmm…" He mumbled to himself, tapping his fingers against his chin. After a few minutes of hmm's and huh's and buhmaybe's, he replied, "Twenty-eight-hundred." Just as I was taking a sip. I nearly choked on it. "T-twenty-eight-_hundred?_" I exclaimed. Are you forgetting a zero in there or something? Twenty-eight-hundred. As in, a two, an eight, and _two_ zeroes?" "Yeah… Why? You willing to pay more?" He said. Too late now, dumb-ass. "No! No, I was just… Making sure…" I sipped my coffee, in an effort to wave off the sudden outburst. "Three thousand dollars…" I murmured under my breath again. "You take cash?" He perked up immediately. "Yeah! Err- yes. We do. But there's a no-returns policy. No returns, no refunds, no complaints." "I'm down with that." I responded, smiling. We both stood up, shook hands, and he pointed towards the woman at the desk. "Go talk to Lynn, and she'll pull some paperwork and then we can get you on your way!" I nodded, and moved back to the front of the tiny office. The woman, Lynn, looked up from her book. "Hi." I said shortly, flashing a smile, and half-waving. "What can I do for ya?" "$2800! Ima pull the title and registration!" came the shout from Rick, who then exited his office. He opened one drawer on a filing cabinet, pulled out the corresponding sheets of paper, and placed them on the edge of the secretary's already cluttered desk. The phone rang, and said woman promptly picked it up, with a sharp. "HELL-O!" and followed with soft mhmm's and uh-huh's. _Must run in the family_, I thought to myself. Rick pulled open another drawer on a different cabinet, pulling out other papers. Lynn snapped at whoever was on the other end of the phone. Rick slammed the drawer shut. A pile of papers on the edge of Lynn's desk tipped and scattered, prompting a fight -more of a chicken squabble- between them. I awkwardly rubbed the back of my head, and stepped back, parking myself in one of the plastic chairs. It finally ended with a clipped reply from Rick, and Lynn ended up crouched down in her heels, picking up the papers. I grimaced. Rick snapped my attention back to him, waving the title in my face. I smiled, and stood back up, taking the title, and glancing over it. _God help me that this jerk doesn't rob me blind with a counterfeit title or registration. _I nodded, with a shrug, and pulled out my wallet. I had just purchased myself a new -new to me, at least- truck.

~X~X~

When Rick disappeared back into his office, to sign his half, Lynn rolled her eyes, and pulled open one of the file cabinet drawers behind her. She grasped the glasses hanging around her neck and pushed them up, onto the tip of her nose. "So what'd ya buy?" She inquired. "The red and blue Petey." I responded with a real, glowing smile.

She suddenly looked back at me, intensely, as if I'd grown two extra heads, doubled limb count, and fish scales. "What?" I asked, startled. "Oh, nothing. Nothing…" She said loudly with a glance over her shoulder, and then dropped her voice to a whisper, looking back at me.

"He's been trying to get that thing off the lot for forever. Like, three or four months!"

_Shit._

"A bunch of people bought it, and came back within a couple of weeks, complaining and demanding a refund!"

_Oh dear…_

"A couple of them said the truck drove off and left them behind. Left their cargo miles away from where the driver was stranded, and came back on its own!"

_Damnit._

"Supposedly it started talking to them! It also _changed into a monster!_ But I think they're just on crack."

_Changed into a monster?_

"_And_, it kept taking over, and driving to random places! _With its driver inside!_"

_Fuck me._

~X~X~

The drive home was weird. Awkward, because I kept expecting something really bad to happen. But surprisingly calm. No haunted truck. No Maximum Overdrive. No dumping me out and driving off. Nothing. Nothing except the fuel gauge, that dinged at me when it came on, and scared the shit outta me. I glared at the small dial, wishing it to hover away from that foreboding E that spelled doom for so many, at the worst of times, and kept driving.

I got on the highway. Home wasn't far from that bone yard of a truck-lot, but I wanted to drop this beast off at my dad's shop. In the morning, I'd take a thorough look through the paperwork sitting in the passenger seat, detailing the background on the VIN and plate, and even pictures -well, one picture- of this truck, back before it'd had all hell beaten out of it. Thinking of the picture, I began a mental calendar. Today was Sunday. If my crew and I could fix any mechanical problems by Tuesday, I could get it headed towards being repainted by Wednesday, and hopefully out by next Sunday at the latest. By then, any and all paperwork could be checked out, transferred, registered, etc., and I could get on the road with 'er. If all went to plan, I could probably make the purchase price back by or before two weeks from now. Parts and paint would be easily five grand, minimum. I could make that money in about another two weeks, so one month from now, I would hopefully be into the pure profit. From then on, at a continuous rate of at least one run every week, $500 per run after fuel costs, I'd make two thousand a month, twenty-four-grand a year, and all of it would go into the shop.

Suddenly, the engine gave a sharp cough, and began spluttering along, the solid 70 mph I was going drooping suddenly to 55, then steadily to 50, and then 45. I panicked slightly and flipped on a blinker, pulling over. Within about two minutes, the truck slowed to a halt and the engine quit. "Damnit!" I snapped, slapping the steering wheel with my palm. I quickly climbed out, and got on the phone.

~X~X~

He was quite satisfied with his results. He'd practically forced her into submission, and shown her just a preview of just how much of a pain in the ass he would be. Of course, she didn't know it was him doing it. Probably never would, if he could help it. She'd be, without a doubt, returning him to that Primus-forsaken lot before so much as two weeks was out. Of course, he wasn't aware of the deal she'd made with Rick, either. He returned his attention to her conversation going on over the phone.

~X~X~

"-Yeah. Yep. Thanks dad. Yeah. Love you too. Bye." I sighed and turned back to the truck. "You sure are causing me some mighty trouble already, ya know." I muttered. I looked back down at my hand, where I'd written my next call, and dialed it into my phone. "Interstate Towing. Nate speakin'." "Hey Nate. It's Diane." "Oh, hey Dee! How are ya?!" "Eh… I've been better. Any chance you're still in your rig?" "Err, yeah, why? You need a tow?" "Erhm, yeah, I do." I replied, shyly. "I got this new truck. It's a '94 Pete. The thing's a real beater. I got on the highway and she died on me." "Yeah, ah'll be right out! Where are ya?" "Ahh…" I backed up next to the guardrail, searching for a mile marker. "I'm a little after 84-point-4. It's a little ways after the overpass." "Okay. Cool. I'll see ya in a bit." "Thanks. Talk to ya soon." "Yup." "Bye." I snapped my phone shut, and smirked at the truck. "How do ya like me now, truck?" I stuck my tongue out at it. I leaned up against the grill, and watched the last of the setting sun disappear between the hilly horizon and the angry, dark storm clouds that were preparing to piss all over the majority of New England.

Ten minutes later, it started raining. Nothing major, just a light mist that was faint, but cool. I got ready to get back in the truck while I waited. A minute or two later, the mist became real drops. I went to get in. And was denied. The door was locked. I know I hadn't locked the truck. Meanwhile, the keys were in it. So now I was locked out, my keys were locked in, and it was starting to rain. I yanked on the latch real good, to no avail. Yanking harder, the latch suddenly released, sending me on my ass, into the mostly empty highway. The small chrome handle quickly snapped back, and I heard the lock click back into place. Quickly pushing myself off the ground, I gawked at the truck. "You bastard freaking truck!" I shouted at it. Trying at the door again, still with no luck. The rain drops were getting fatter, and falling more rapidly, and I resorted to simply cursing at the truck, and sat in front of it.

~X~X~

I was soaked, by the time Nate pulled up. I was sitting on the cab steps, trying to hide under the mirror, which was virtually impossible, considering how thin it was. I was sopping wet, cold, and annoyed. I was quick to get up and meet Nate most of the way to his truck. "Hey Dee, how- What the hell happened?!" He was startled by my thoroughly rained-upon self. I had my arms folded and hands tucked under, trying to keep most of my heat in. "I, ahh… I got locked out…" I muttered. He nodded hesitantly. "The keys are in it?" "Yeah. Keys are in it, but the door locked itself." He let out a soft laugh, and smiled at me. "Alright. Come on, kid. Go ahead and get in. I got the heat turned up already." He softly patted my back and nudged me towards the truck. His fluorescent jacket and the reflective vertical stripes glowed in the light put off by all of the amber lights running the length of his truck. I flashed a smile, nodded, and immediately climbed into the passenger seat of his truck, melting into the warm interior.

A few minutes later, the tow-operator returned and climbed in. "Yeah, she's definitely locked up good. I'm gonna hook 'er up." He grumbled, tossing a pack of lock picks into the door pocket. I nodded. "Where you bringin' 'er?" "Dad's. I was hoping I'd be able to get it home, on what fuel was in it. That thing had an eighth of a tank when I left, so I guess I'll be replacing some fuel lines." I mumbled. "So how much was it?" "Twenty eight." "Thousand?" "Nah. Hundred." "What?! Twenty-eight-hundred dollars?! Was the guy on crack!?" I laughed at his response. "Pot. Crack. Either or. I wouldn't be surprised either way." I said, with a snort and a smirk, as Nate started backing up, and returned to the torrential downpour outside the Kenworth's cab.

~X~X~

I waved from the open bay door as Nate drove off, leaving me and the truck alone at the shop. After the neon yellow truck had disappeared into the walls of rain, I shut the door of the bay and turned to the truck. "So…" I started, to the truck. "Now what? You gonna run me over and make me a permanent smear on the door? Or leave me behind like your other drivers?" I shook my head, and tried to open the door. Unlocked. I stared at the truck, as the door swung open at my pull, appalled. I know that door was locked when Nate came to pick me up. He even said it himself that it was! I buried my face in my hands for a moment, before looking back up into the cab. It was the same as I'd left it. Pulling myself up, I saw it was exactly the same as I'd left it, except that the keys that were now in the ignition. I know I had pulled them out. I'd pulled them out and set them on the floor of the cab. I sighed, and grabbed the paperwork off the passenger seat. "No refunds, returns or complaints… Big mistake, girly…" I murmured to myself, shutting the garage door, and heading for the office.

~X~X~

"So what'd ya get, kid?" Came my dad's voice, as he marched into the office of the shop. I shot up, from an uncomfortable but fairly deep sleep in my chair. I groaned softly, and dropped my head back to the desk. "You okay?" He asked. I groaned again, in response, before sitting back up, and looking at him. "It died on the way here, and then I got locked out. Nate had to tow it over here." "So what is it?" "You didn't look yet?" "Yeah, I did! I figured I'd ask anyways!" He replied sarcastically, laughing softly. "No, I didn't." I nodded groggily, and pulled the picture that had come in the folder with the truck. He whistled, "Wow… What a beaut! That's one nice looking truck…" I nodded, pushing out of the chair. "Yeah, was. Now it's a beater. I figure, if we can fix it up, I could probably get it off to Mikey in a few days, and be on the road by the end of the week." I gestured towards the door, and we both moved out to the garage.

"Oh!…" My dad was startled by the condition of the truck now, compared to the photo. The picture showed gleaming, immaculate red and orange flames screaming across deep sapphire blue on the cab, and the colors inverted on the hood. I sighed softly. "This thing is gonna take a while… Mikey's really gonna have his work cut out for him." My dad nodded, and walked away, to pin the photo on the board next to the office window. "When Shaina gets in later, I'll have her look for more pictures. That'll make Mikey's job at least a little bit easier." My dad offered. I shrugged and looked at the truck. It had seemed like a good idea at first, but now I was looking at the truck, and seeing problems everywhere, even ones that probably weren't actually there. Running a hand through my hair, I set off.

~X~X~

Three exhausting days later, the truck was done. Or at least, mechanical work was done. The truck itself looked like crap, but it ran beautifully, seamlessly even. I looked above the opposite wall and glared at the black and white analog clock, bold black letters showing 8:43pm. I sighed and carefully pushed the hood of the Peterbilt back down, clipping it shut.

"You still out here, Dee?" "Huh?" I looked up, spotting my friend and mechanic, Aiden. "Oh, yeah, I'm still here… It's done. It's finally done!" I laughed softly, leaning into the grill of the truck. "Well that's good… I just talked to your dad. He's got a run for you." "A run? But it's not ready to go! It starts, and the basic maintenance checks out, but I haven't even gone for a test drive! And above all else, I still need fuel. I only put in enough to start 'er up." I thumped my head back into the grill, sighing. "I kind of need to make my parts money back, though, at the very least." I muttered. I sighed again, rubbed my face with a greasy gray-black hand, and leaned away from the grill. Aiden smiled pitifully, patted me on the back, then turned away, and returned to the office. Shaking my head, I grabbed the multiple empty soda cans on the step of the truck, and followed.

~X~X~

My dad was sitting in the office, clicking away at the computer. _Ebay._ I thought to myself. Tossing the armful of empty Mountain Dew's and Dr. Pepper's in a blue recycle bin, I dropped into a chair on the opposite side of Dad's desk. "You win anything?" I murmured. He simply grunted a response, typed something in, and clicked murderously. I snickered softly, and answered aloud, to myself, "Trying to." He nodded. Typing and clicking again, he looked up. "Just bought a whole lot of oil filter wrenches." He stated proudly. I smiled, and nodded. "Nice. Because we totally don't have a million of them already?" He shrugged and responded with a simple Mehh. I rolled my eyes, leaned over the arm of chair, and grabbed a new can of soda out of the half-size fridge at my side. "So where am I going and why am I leaving already?" I asked, cracking the can open, and taking a long sip. "You said the truck would be ready in a few days. It's been a few days." He stated firmly. I folded my arms. "Fort Worth, Texas." My eyes widened, and I nearly choked on my soda. _Twice in under a week. Must be a new choking record for me_. "Texas?! Dad, that's at least a thousand miles! I don't know if this truck can even go fifty miles without breaking down or getting blowing itself to smithereens!" I exclaimed. "A quarter less than two-grand." He corrected, carelessly. "It's around seventeen-hundred, as long as you take this route-" he handed me a number of sheets over the desk, "-and probably about two days. Give or take." My jaw dropped as I looked over the instructions. "You expect me to drive from middle-of-nowhere Massachusetts to Fort Worth, Texas, and back-" He nodded, "-in two freaking days?" He threw his hands up and shook his head. "Nuh-nuh-nuh-nuh-no. Those instructions are one way, you dipshit." He slapped his forehead and shook his head.

"Oh." I sighed, relieved. "It's been a long couple of days. Just one problem, though. I haven't taken a test drive, and it still needs fuel. Specifically, two entire tanks worth. I pulled both of them, 'cause they were a bit ugly-lookin'." I shrugged, standing up, and taking a sip of my soda, looking over the first page of instructions. "Well then run to the station, fill 'er up, and get going!" My dad ordered in rather sergeant-ly manner. I nodded, and put myself in gear, setting a mental autopilot.

~X~X~

I watched the numbers rolling by. $100. $200. $300. $700. $800. $900. $1,000. When the meter ran to 246 gallons -or rather, 46, after the third scan of my card, because the meter only ran a hundred gallons at a time- I shook my head and let go of the trigger. The tanks on this truck were a hundred gallons each. It should've only taken two hundred. At most! Leaning against the truck, I glared down the length of the cab, wishing it weren't such a nightmare already.

Dorothy, the station's owner, rounded the front of the truck. She was an ancient-looking woman. She moved slowly, due to many health problems. She'd run the station for many years, as in, before I was even born. Sure, I was only 22, but she'd still been working here a looooong time… I shook off the glare towards the truck, and smiled at her. "How ya doing, dear?" She asked, her strong voice defying her physical appearance. "I'm good, Thee. How are you?" She rolled her eyes and waved it off, with a simple "Ahh, same as always. Grandkids are getting old. Kids are getting even older." She shrugged. I smiled and laughed.

"So where did ya get this beater?" She said, staring firmly at the truck, taking a step back, and putting hands on her hips. It was like the truck was a friend of the male species, and she was determining its value, and whether or not it was worthy of my time. "I got it from Rick. Y'know, the dirtbag up at Exit 4?-" I shook my head, "-Just as much of a scumbag as always. Twenty-eight-hundred for this thing. Can ya believe that? Just over a thousand into parts and-" pointing to the meter, "-I just nudged my budget over five-grand." She nodded, and looked back at me, staring me in the eyes. "It's not a bad truck… But you better paint it! It's damned ugly!" We both laughed. Dorothy, or Thee, as everybody knew her, was known especially well for her brutal honesty. She reached out and flaked some paint off the door on the sleeper cab.

Without warning, the truck exploded to life, and let out a loud, long blaring of the air horn, making us both jump back a few steps. I stared, startled, at the truck. "Th-there's ahhh- there's still a few uhm- ahh- kinks that need to be worked out." I stumbled over words, trying to explain. "I'll say!" Dorothy hissed in response. I simply nodded, "I uhh- I gotta… Go?" I mumbled. She nodded and waved me towards the cab, walking away. As she passed the grill, the truck honked at her, making her jump again, and move a good deal faster, despite her bad joints. I let my head fall, sighed, and climbed into the truck, feeling awkward, banished almost. Humiliated.

Tugging my phone out of my pocket, I called my dad, tucking the phone between my shoulder and ear, to shift gears. He picked up almost immediately. "Y'allo?" "Hey, it's me. We have a slight wiring problem." "Wiring problem? But we tested all of the wiring, and I replaced a bunch of the fuses!" "Well, obviously not the right ones. I was over at Thee's and the thing started up on its own." "What?! But that's not even possible!" "Well obviously it is now!" I snapped back. "Ahh shit. Well, we'll fix it when you get back from that run." "But-!" "No! You need to go on that run. Don't argue! It's waiting for you at the UPS hub in West Springfield. Now get going!" I growled out a sharp 'Fine!' and hung up, pouting.

~X~X~

Damn that old woman! He thought. That paint fragging hurt. There were only two ways to compare it to the human anatomy. Peeling a layer of skin off, and pulling off an extremely sticky band-aid on the hairiest part of your arm. It slagging hurt! And his slagging driver! She only barely filled his tanks! Their "capacity" may have been a hundred gallons per, but their real capacity was around eight-hundred, total. He was silently grumbling to himself. Maybe he should just dump this driver in some obscure place, too, like he'd done to the second human who was so unfortunate to buy him. All these creator-slagged humans wanted out of him was to haul as much cargo as they could from place to place, and they didn't care what it was, how much it weighed and whether or not it exceeded his alt. mode's tow capacity, nor how much damage it caused him or other people, with their rude, careless driving style, and non-existent skills.

The Prime was severely displeased. To say the least, displeased. He saved their planet, multiple times, in ways they couldn't possibly imagine, and this was what he got? _Sector Seven be slagged. NEST be slagged. U.S. Government Extraterrestrial Plans be slagged. Earth and the entire human race be slagged!_ He huffed, air tanks sighing, and chugged on, following his driver's lead. Why him?

A/N: Hey guys! Missed you! So for those of you who're following this fic, you know that it's been out of commission for a very long time. *steps on fountain* My bad. Anyways, I've been talking on my page about revamping this fic, and totally redoing it. Well, redoing the whole thing seemed a bit much. I liked the way this fic started, but unfortunately it got away from me. I felt like I _needed_ to post new chapters on a specific schedule, and it just killed me. I went too fast through the plot, rushed to the good stuff, and left out a shit ton of character development. So here it is. Reviewed, revised, and reposted. Also FYI, it has been posted both on Ego Vivo, and under a separate, new title, Chick vs Truck . :D Yay for updates? My hope is to post the next segment this weekend some time. But we'll see, I suppose…


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